


Behind the Curtain

by blublublah



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Angst, Drug Abuse, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Maylor - Freeform, Mental Health Issues, Mostly follows Rog an Bri, Slow Burn, Violence, okay what do you expect from an stripper au??
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2019-10-15 18:06:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 26,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17533607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blublublah/pseuds/blublublah
Summary: Maylor Stripper!AUAfter finally cutting (almost) all the ties with their past lifes, Roger and John move to London to find a purpose, a new passion, simply put a better life.But all that glitters is not gold and sometimes life comes around faster than one can catch up, leaving you cold and broken left behind.So while the blond just wants John to have a better life, he made a few stupid decisions on the way and maybe met the love of his life in a dimly lit, smokey private room at a stripclub.John still struggles with his past demons, Brian has now idea how he even got here in the first place and Freddie desperately tries to figure out his feelings before it is too late.~Titel taken from: The Show Must Go On





	1. New Horizons

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! 
> 
> I'm back early this time since I wanted to get this out asap when the idea came to me!  
> This AU came to me during writing Too Much and I've been so intrigued ever since, I just had to write it...  
> Also this is the first piece I actually post without having it completely finished first, so lets see if I can stay motivated enough...
> 
> Before you start reading please note following things:
> 
> \- the song lyrics of the chapter names don't always apply to the chapters content  
> \- I've never been to England (and probably wont be in the near future...thanks brexit)  
> \- I actually spent 3h (!!!) searching for a town that fitted my requirements  
> \- Roger and John grew up in Middlesbrough (sorry if you're from there lol)
> 
> This work is not proof read so expect some mistakes...I'll read it over tomorrow morning!
> 
> Also Fred and Brian don't appear in this chapter jsut yet since this actually is more like a prologue to set the basics
> 
> Okay I think thats it for now, please enjoy :)

The clouds hung low on this gloomy Thursday. Light rain showered over the city, a poor attempt to wash the streets clean of their filth and trouble, potholes filling with the dirty water, road drainage already bubbling though to the clogged pipes. The rain did little to swill the sickening smell away; 

The yellow dull light coming from the few still working street lamps, gleamed on the wet surface. It was after dusk already and the night had begun to settle between the empty alleys. 

You see, normally one would be fine, going out in a light drizzle, sun still setting, sky grey but still mixed with some sunrays, painting a somewhat lovely sunset. Even the abandoned streets should be nothing to worry about it was rather late already, so nothing out of the common, right? It seemed like a calm, quiet Thursday evening after all.

Well, but this wasn’t your normal suburban or old fashioned city; 

No, this district was nothing like these beautiful little places, full of mysterious bookshops, adorable cafes and unique markets where you would find long lost stories and fairy tales, they showed in the movies or described in the book when talking about the enchanting old towns of England.

No, here you would only find burned out businesses that dared to believe they could get a foot down in the economy, often paying with their lives for being so foolish. Here you would find rusty playground were no mother would dare to let her child play, broken windows on every third house down the street, reeking garbage heaps surrounded by some old folks looking for anything valuable.

This district was no place to be out at night, the city consul declaring a curfew to keep the number of assaults down, making it by no means harmless to be out after the night had set.

Roger didn’t care. He couldn’t allow himself to care actually.

The young man, barely an adult yet, scurried down the almost empty street. He had to hurry if he wanted to get to the store in time.

His sister was at home, hungry and all alone. The longer he took, the greater the risk of something happening to her. 

He sidestepped some ripped plastic bags, litter flowing out of them, blocking the pavement. His hair was already damp from the rain, the torn jacket doing a poor job of shielding the thin frame from the cold February night. 

A shiver ran through Rogers body as he turned the next corner, walking down the old shopping street.

If you could even call it that;

Once there had been a lot of little shops, owned by all sorts of people coming from all over the world. It was common for poor district to be the home of minorities and immigrants. Back when the economy hadn’t been as shit as it was today, and the government still gave a fuck about people who relied on their support instead of covering up any sign of poverty, back then the street had been filled with dozen of little unique shops.

A Second-Hand Clothing Shop owned by a sweet Iraqi lady, a Turkish bakery, a flower shop run by a couple that came from Hungary. All kind of people had managed to give this run down district a touch of community. 

His mom had told him about the times were this part of the city was still welcoming and had been, despite all its problem still, a place to settle down and start a family. 

Those times were long gone.

Roger cursed himself for getting lost in these useless memories; 

He had to hurry, but even as his feet splashed through the puddles, getting his shoes drenched in water, he knew he would be too late.

His fear was confirmed once the little shop appeared behind the next corner. 

The bright neon lights still flickering, smoke still coming from the air vents, but the shop itself was dark, the counter unoccupied, the parking lot empty.

Roger came to a halt right in front of the shappy shop, hoping to see Maria somewhere. The young girl, just a few years older than he himself, worked there to support her family. She would understand the situation and give him a minute to get something for his sister.

But no such luck tonight.

Fuck, Roger kicked a bottle lying around, the glass flying against the wall, shattering.

Just like Clares’ chances of going to sleep without an aching stomach.

God he was an awful brother.

After a few more minutes of staring longingly at the foods behind the window, even thinking about just breaking the glass to get something, Roger turned around.

The rain stronger now, the harsh wind beating the scattered litter around the street, raindrops sharp as needles piercing down; 

The weather mirroring the emotions flowing through Roger.

His heart clenching as he thought about failing his little sister; his dear baby sister still so innocent and pure, going hungry and cold to bed, to wake to an even darker and atrocious world than before.

Roger thought about his mom too, she was still at work, balancing two jobs and two kids all on her own. Doing everything she could to somehow get them through the month before yet another rent increase would demolish all her hard work.

Roger felt ashamed. 

Here he was, running around the storm, getting himself sick, failing to feed his sister, managing to be an even greater burden for his mother.

He had tried to get a job; he had worked at a few places, selling goods at a market, helping out in a garage, he even tried to get his foot down in the music branch by going to a few auditions the theater had held some time ago.

But it had failed every time. He either let his temper get the best of him or started fighting with his customers or he wasn’t being taken serious or just plainly told to not bother coming in tomorrow.

After his rejection at the theater, Roger had given up. This city didn’t want him. Not as a citizen, as a worker or even as a street musician.

Of course the young man still applied to jobs all over the city, but one look at his current address often sealed the deal, rejection following shortly. Or if the address wasn’t the deal breaker, then his looks would take on that responsibility.

He remembered the words the last employer had laughed at him, “Boy, I don’t think my mechanics could stay focused on their tasks if such a pretty ass was around them all day.” 

Roger winced; fuck that dude in particular. 

Well technically he had a profession right now, if you could even call it that.

It wasn’t exactly legal and he would never tell his mom or god forbid his sister about where the little money he earned came from, but at least it was something.

The ‘job’ he had been on today was actually the reason he had been late which was quite ironically. Yesterday he would have been in time but wouldn’t have any money, today he had the money but had been too late. 

Hah, sometimes his life really felt like cruel joke.

There was one more option to get something to eat tonight, he hated that he’d have to choose that one but desperate times called for desperate measures. 

His feet brought him down to a very familiar alley, a smile slipping on his chapped lips.

This city may only brought him nothing but misfortune, nonetheless there was one thing that he was still thankful for.

He quickly crossed the street, the last remaining sun rays had long disappeared behind the tall buildings, night settling down.

After jumping up the stairs and pushing open the old metal doors, he was inside the familiar residential complex where his friend lived.

Not trusting the rusty elevator, the blond quickly skipped upwards, stopping at the 4th floor in front of the white wooden door, decorated only with a Sticker that read “Deacon”.

Before knocking, Roger hastily squeezed his jacket and shook his head to get some of the water of himself, a puddle already forming at his feet.

Well better here than inside the flat, right?

It only took a short moment before the lock was turned and the door was opened slightly. The chain still preventing it to open more than a few centimeters;

“It’s me, open up Deaky” Roger whispered impatiently.

“What? What are you doing here?” came the immediate response, the young voice sounding more confused than panicked.

“Just open the fucking door!” To emphasize his demand, Roger lightly kicked at the wood blocking him from the warmth inside.

“Stop that, god, I swear…” the mumbling fading as the door closed again, the chain rattling, before it finally opened fully.

Before Roger could even take in the sight of his friend, he was already roughly pulled inside the flat, the door slamming close behind him.

“What are you doing here?” 

The question sounded more like an accusation though Roger ignored it and just started taking his drenched jacket off, slipping out of his soaked shoes.

“I’ve been fine, a bit wet, but thank you for asking. And no don’t bother helping me, I’m good.” His voice dripping in sarcasm, Roger smiled at his friend.

“I don’t care. What are you doing here Rog? You know you can’t just come over any time you like! He will know!” Now the previously annoyed tone had become more distraught, the anxiety evident on the young mans’ face.

Great, now Roger felt even more like shit.

You see, while his best friend, and maybe the only real friend Roger had in a long time, John Richard Deacon, was indeed the best thing in Rogers life that didn’t mean it also was the other way around.

Though Roger was pretty sure, that besides all his snide remarks and dry borderline insults, the other actually appreciated him more than he liked to admit.

And it was not like Roger couldn’t understand where John was coming from. They both had their own problems, their own demons, fears and secrets keeping them up at night feeling lonely and miserable but at least he had a sister.

John was practically alone in this world. 

The ominous ‘He’ John had referenced before was actually Mr. Deacon. Father and legal caretaker of John, not that he acted like one of those two things really. No, while John also still lived with his father, just like Roger with his family, Mr. Deacon was far from the kind parent his own mother was. 

He had been once, John told him, but Roger had a hard time believing it. Roger couldn’t remember one single occasion the old man hadn’t been drunk or just pissed off at John. 

“Is he here now?” 

John shook his head but didn’t look any better, the worry still evident on his tired face.

“I don’t know when he will be back. So, what really brought you here?” 

Right, straight back again to business.

“I was out on a job to get money for groceries but the shop was already closed by the time I got there.” Roger replied not able to look at John any longer, instead picking at the loose strands of his trousers.

He hated that he had to ask his friend for food when he damn well knew the other wasn’t in any better situation. But this wasn’t for Roger, it was for Clare.

“John, look you know I wouldn’t come here if I didn’t have a reason and you know I also wouldn’t mind skipping a meal or two” well talk about understatements, “but the food would have been for Clare. Mom had to spend all her money on the broken leak and the little bugger only had some bread and cheese for breakfast the other day.”

His own voice sounded strangely hollow and exhausted. 

John just sighed before pulling Roger into the small kitchen, moving him to the counter before turning to the small cabinet.

“I can’t give you a lot,” he pulled a few cans of tomato soup from the shelf, “but this should do it for a few days.” 

Handing his friend, the cans he held onto the soup, meeting Rogers confused gaze. 

“Can’t you look for another job?” The firm question warmed Roger, confirming that John really was at least a bit worried about the other, “Anything would be better than…what ever it is you do right now…”

“You know I tried. Also, I think they like me or at least they are bound to trust me with some more important jobs.” 

“More important jobs…you mean more dangerous ones?” 

John shook his head but dropped the subject. It wouldn’t lead anywhere anyways.

He didn’t approve of Rogers career choice but there was little he could do about it. And while John had his father providing him, Roger often held back his own needs so his sister got what she needed. It made only sense the older man wanted to provide at least something to his family.

“So, how’s school going?” 

Normally teenager avoided talking about anything school related but with John it had always been different. The younger one loved going to school, it was not only a distraction from his situation at home, it actually gave him the chance to learn something, to have a purpose, to get somewhere in life. Even if it was only in theory. 

Roger had graduated two years ago, John would soon be finished too. Only a few more months, then the fun would be over.

Though Roger firmly believed John would easily find a job at a garage or something. He was sweet guy even if he needed a whole lot of time to get used to new people, but he was smart and reliable which always helped with looking for an occupation.

“Good, no, really it’s been good. Stressful because of the exams but good. We actually have a few study groups, I’m meeting them on Sunday if Dad is fine with it.”

The small smile on Johns face was enough to warm Rogers shivering body. Damn, he really should get home and get changed or else he would be sick by the time he woke up tomorrow. It was rare for John to show any real signs of content or happiness, so to see his eyes lighten up was truly enchanting.

“Sounds good. You heard anything from Macy?”

Macy was one of the volunteers that worked at their school, she was a kind old lady and had been the one to organize the little school band where Roger and John had met all those years ago.

Back then Rogers family had still lived with his father before the lies, before the fights, before everything had hurt, before everything had gone to shit.

Sometimes Roger wondered if it had always been shit and he just had been too young to notice it, too naïve to pick up on the signs, too ignorant to question the stillness in their house.

“No, I haven’t. It’s been a while…but I’ve been busy with school work so…” Johns voice cut through his memories, Roger nodded absently. 

“Makes sense…I hope she’s okay.”

“Me too.”

The pair stood quietly in comfortable silence, relishing in the others presence for another moment, both lost in their heads.

“And you? Are you okay?” The dark circles under the piercing sharp blue eyes did nothing to lessen the intense stare. There was no harm in it though, only affection and real concern.

“Yeah, it’s been quiet. He isn’t home that often nowadays.” 

The statement sounded honest so Roger didn’t prod any further, happy with the response he got.

“Well, I guess I’ll be going then, don’t want Clare to worry too much. See you tomorrow?”, already on his way to the hall, slipping into his shoes and grabbing his still damp jacket from the hanger, wincing as the cold clothing only worsened his shivering.

“Yes, same time as always. Get home safe.”

Roger snorted. “You know me”

“Yeah, that’s why I worry.” John replied drily earning a laugh from the blond.

“Oh, and thanks for the soup, I don’t know what I would do without you Deaks!”, Roger laughed as he was shoved out of the door.

The mumbled “Probably die” was almost lost before the door was closed behind him again, chains rattling.

John really was a saint.

The rain had lessened a bit but the wind was still icy, clinging to his wet clothes, cold creeping under the thin fabric.

Roger pulled his jacket closer, careful not to drop the cans while picking up his pace wanting to get home as soon as possible.

No one was out, it was a calm night it seemed. A few dogs barking in the distance, some guys yelling a few blocks down the street but nothing out of the regular. 

Carefully he looked behind him, sensing that something wasn’t quite right. Roger had grown to be a bit more paranoid since he started working for Meyers. 

As he neared his own neighborhood, he took a little detour, not wanting to give whoever was following him his real address. 

He stopped in front of an old bookstore, gazing through the dark shopping window until a shadow appeared beside him.

Internally jumping at the sudden presence right behind him, he tried to keep his composure as he turned around, facing the mysterious person.

“You did good today. Mac was really pleased. Walk with me a bit.”

Roger didn’t recognize the voice but it didn’t matter anyway, it wasn’t like he could just reject the offer.

The blond nodded following the other man. 

“You really proved to be a great addition to the team. I admit I doubted you at first, you don’t seem very…suited for the job but it seems like I was wrong.” The man was keeping his face hidden behind a thick scarf, muffling his words a bit.

Roger kept quiet, just nodding along. 

“Mac says you’re ready for the next coup. After that you’ll be on regulars. So, don’t fuck it up I guess.”

They stopped at an intersection. A letter was shoved into Rogers chest before the stranger disappeared into the night, leaving the blond behind without another word.

*

It’s been exactly four months since the strange encounter and Roger was on a high.

Life could be so easy if you had money and the right connections.

He had aced the job back then, qualifying for a whole different range of jobs with far more paying profits and even if John had been right, they were a lot riskier, Roger couldn’t really bring himself to care.

He was good at this. His customers often underestimated him, blinded by his feminine appearance, fooled by his innocent, taken of guard by his skilled hands. Mac was pleased with his work, trusting him with important deliveries, often giving him a nice bonus if he finished early. His mother actually could afford a few days of per month to spent some time with her children and Clare had been able to attend the school trip to Liverpool. 

Who ever said money couldn’t buy happiness clearly was an ignorant dumbass.

Ever since he had taken on more serious jobs his cut had also increased. It still wasn’t enough to take his family somewhere nicer or to get him anywhere anytime soon but it didn’t need to be right now.

Right now, he was just relieved to watch his mother make her famous meatloaf with fresh veggies and some side potatoes. It was a simple meal but it was so much more than they had been able to afford for a very long time.

His sister happily cutting the potatoes into small cube, humming some cheerful song, handing the knife carefully four sharp eyes following her every move, while his mother mixed the minced meat with the onions and herbs. Roger watched quietly from the small dinette, going mentally through his last job again. 

It had been a quite important one, he had to deliver a large amount to a fairly new reseller. Luckily nothing had gone wrong and the guy had the required sum ready and wasn’t trying to negotiate, just paying the agreed amount and leaving right after.

Now Roger had about £9500 in his room, stored away in a duffel bag under his fresh clothes in the closet. 

The transfer would be in a few days, right now it would be too dangerous.

He would probably get a few hundred pounds as payment, his usual cut varying between 5 and 10 percent. And since it was summer the utility costs would be fairly low so maybe he could Clare to the ice cream parlor at the haven. They haven’t been there in years.

“You wanna try it?” the soft young voice tore him from his thoughts. Blue eyes focused on the petite girl holding out a wooden spoon in front of him.

“Mommy made the sauce like grandma! She even used thyme and oregano.” The blond girl smiled excitedly, the dark sauce dripping of the spoon on the kitchen tiles.

“Of course!” Roger nipped the wooden spoon out of her hands with his mouth. A laugh bubbling up his throat at the surprised yelp, nearly choking before he took the spoon out again, licking it clean and handing it back to Clare.

“Tastes good!”

The strong flavor was a bit unfamiliar, his mother usually not bothering buying spices and other condiments, the money was far too precious to waste it on such lavish goods.

“Just like back when we were still with…” Roger didn’t finish his sentence feeling his mother’s eyes on him.

He looked to her, smiling cheekily “You know I get my payment next week! I thought about going to the parlor with Clare and getting some ice-cream and I could get some fish if you want.”

The frown on his mother’s face deepened. 

“I don’t want you to spend your filthy money on your sister and I sure do not need it to feed my children.” 

The harsh voice, dripping with acid startled the man, his smile dropping from his lips. He had not expected that reaction at all. Sure, his mom probably guessed that he didn’t work at the next laundry shop but she couldn’t have known what exactly he did, right?

“I may not know what you do with all your free time, where the money comes from exactly and why you always come home so late, looking like death on two legs but do not try to kid me, Roger Meddows Taylor.” She paused, stepping closer to her children, “I am your mother and not some fool who falls for you pretty face. I don’t think I even want to know, but do me a favor and keep the bloody money to yourself. I don’t need any more problems.”

With that she turned around, her back facing them as she resumed cooking, and with that the conversation was over.

Roger blinked looking from his mother to Clare, his sister clearly as confused as he himself. She didn’t really think so right? After all he had started this job to finally help her out, did she even know what risks he took to support her? It wasn’t like someone got hurt or some shit, it was just some harmless drugs!

Roger was fuming, his temper getting the best of him yet again. 

“What do you mean, you don’t want it? You took it before! What changed? Any why does it even matter where it comes from? It’s not hurting anyone! It’s hard earned money, so why not use it to improve our shitty life?” His voice boomed and he cringed when he saw how Clare physically flinched away from him.

“Watch your language! Clare go to your room, I’ll call you once lunch is ready!” Her voice was firm but still soft, the little girl immediately fleeing from the kitchen.

“Doesn’t hurt anyone? Did I really raise such an idiot as my own son?” A brief flicker of regret flashed over face before it hardened again. “You know what Tommy’s Mother told me the other day? You know, the boy from down the street? She came home after work and found her own son lying unconsciousness in her living room, the boy was barely breathing anymore, lips blue, skin grey, foam covering his mouth. She called an ambulance and they were able to save his life but do you know what caused this?”

She was shaking, dropping the knife on the counter, her face screwed up in silent anger and fear, her eyes wet.

Roger didn’t need to ask what the cause was. He was the one that sold Tommy the powder. Fuck, he knew drugs weren’t harmless and he knew Tommy shouldn’t have tried that stuff out but Roger couldn’t really choose who he wanted to sell shit and who better fucked off.

“Imagine if it had been John. They’re the same age, Roger. What would you have done if it had been John overdosing?” 

The thought struck a nerve in him, no way of denying it, but Roger knew John would never ever do drugs. And Roger sure as hell would sell his best friends any.

“I know it sucks that such things happen, but I really just wanted to help…” He dropped his gaze, no longer able to stand the disapproving look gazing down on him. 

The blond felt helpless, embarrassed even. He felt ashamed, not because of the job but that his mother was disappointed in him, that she felt like she failed him. 

“You really won’t take it?” 

“No, dear, I won’t take a single penny. I let this already get way too far. Roger, I don’t want you to do such things for me or Clare. You’re still young, why do try to ruin your own life?”, the voice lost its edge, softening as she stepped towards her son. 

Gently she brushed away his blond hair, a small gesture holding more love than any amount of words could express right now. Roger leaned into the touch, closing his eyes. He didn’t know why his life was so messed up. He had no damn idea.

His mother stayed quiet, the sauce bubbling faintly in the background, Roger let himself get lost in the calming atmosphere. 

Later that day, after the lunch was finished and the tension had cleared from the Taylor household, Roger left to meet up with John. 

On his way to their usual meeting spot he thought about his mothers words again. Was he really sabotaging his own life? Sure, Roger didn’t plan on working in that business his whole life but he just figured at some point a new door would open, a new opportunity to get further in life. But what if that opportunity never came, all the doors staying closed?

He thought about the money. He would get about £800 or £900 probably. And if he didn’t have to spent it on rent or groceries, he could save it for a car. Or well maybe a driver license first.

His thoughts traveled to the duffel back hidden in his closet. £9500, that was a shit ton of money. All the things he could buy with that amount. He would probably buy himself drums again. A really nice set of shiny, new drums.

Back when they still lived with his father, he had gotten an old worn-down set for Christmas. He had played every day after school, Roger had been so proud of it. Then he had joined the school band where he met John, who respectively played the bass. They had looked quite funny, little blond Roger behind his giant drums and thin fragile John being nearly crushed by the heavy bass.

Roger hadn’t played in years but he was sure he would be able to pounce back anytime given the chance. It wasn’t something you simply forget, not after playing for so many years.

Hah, he sounded like an old man. 

Yeah, he would buy a set of drums and some new clothes. Despite not owning a lot of fashion, Roger had always liked to look through some Second-Hand shops, scooping out a deal or finding something unique. 

He also would get himself a nice flat somewhere far away from this godforsaken city. But could he really just get up and leave his mother and sister behind? Hm, maybe so, it wasn’t such a maddening thought, since his mother refused his money and if he left, they had lower costs and all. But his sister would be all alone. But she just turned 14 and was growing up way too fast if you asked him.

Well it was only fantasies anyways, right?

When the blond arrived at the agreed spot, John was nowhere to be seen. Hm, weird. Normally Roger was be the late one and would earn a soft punch on his shoulder from John for making him wait yet again.

Well, how things have changed, he thought.

A pleasant breeze coming from the near sea, bringing some freshness to the heated city.

Police siren suddenly sounded over the streets. Loud and ear-piercing, coming closer to the little park he waited at. Roger froze. No, they couldn’t come here for him, right? There was no way in hell they had somehow found out about him! He sunk back, almost hiding behind the tall trees and bushed.

The cars rushed past him, red light flickering wildly, the alarm blearing down the street.

One car stopped, not in front of Roger but close enough to get dangerous.

Roger tried to melt into the greens, if they found him hiding it wouldn’t matter if they knew about his occupation, the plain action already suspicious enough.

“No sight of Meyers here. They have a handover place at the other end of park, but the coast it clear right now.” 

Roger gasped. They really were here because of the drugs. But wait, hadn’t that guy just mentioned Meyers name. Did they catch onto him? That was impossible, if they caught the head of the organization, then soon they would look for the dealer and supplier. They would look for him. 

But no, they couldn’t have found Meyers. No one knew anything about the mysterious man. He was a myth!

“Requesting Backup at 428! Repeating, we need Backup, now!” The radio crackled, the voice loud and tense. The police officer near Roger cursed and took one last look around at his surroundings. 

“We got him! Subject found, we need-“ The voice cut off as the officer jumped back into his car, slamming the door shut before speeding off.

Shit, shit, shit, shit. Roger stayed where he was, back still pressed against the hard wood, breath coming in short huffs. Fuck!

No, no, no. That must have been a misunderstanding, a confusion. No way in hell did they actually get their hands on Meyers! Just no! 

He had to get away. He couldn’t wait until they came back, searching the whole place. No, he had to leave! 

Taking a few more deep breaths, Roger tried to calm his racing heart down. Clenching his shaking hands into fists, he left his hiding spot, crossing the street, keeping his head down, walking hurriedly towards his destination. 

John hadn’t shown up yet, so he was most likely still home and if not, Roger would pass him up on the street. His feet quickly brought him to the home of his best friend, adrenalin still pumping through his system.

He took two steps at once, pounding harshly on the wooden door, praying to whoever listened that Mr. Deacon wouldn’t be home right now.

No one came.

Roger clammy hands, cold from the adrenaline, gripped the doorknob, twisting it, already knowing it would be futile. Of course, their door wouldn’t be unlocked, especially if no one seemed to be home.

Roger cursed.

There was no way that he would have missed John on his sprint here. It had been the quickest way and if John had already been late why would he take the longer route? It didn’t make sense and Rogers’ panicked mind was not helping at. All he could think of was Meyers dead body or even worse his very alive body telling the cops all they wanted to know.

But he wouldn’t do that, right? Meyers was loyal to his men just like they were to him.

But then how had they found him? Someone must’ve snitched. There was no reason to stay loyal to unthankful dogs. 

Fuck, he kicked to door again, out of pure desperation. Hadn’t he woken up today, thinking life was beautiful? Okay, maybe that was a bit exaggerated but really, could this day get any fucking worse?

As it turned out, it could.

Maybe Roger should stop challenging the universe;

After his heart slowed, his breath calming again and his mind wasn’t trying to overheat by racing through every possible outcome of the witnessed police chase, he leaned at the door, the wood creaking, supporting the exhausted body.

He really wasn’t in the best shape anymore.

Roger closed his eyes, hands playing with his shirt, feet tapping a slow rhythm that had always helped to cease his anxiety as a child. 

The staircase was quiet, a few muffled voices coming from a flat downstairs but other than that there was only the sound of his stressed breathing. He let his head fall back against the wood.

Where the fuck was John?

He had been so occupied with stressing over the Meyers situation that he had completely forgotten what the absence of his friend could actually mean.

A cold shiver running through him, new found fear already gripping him, twisted pictures of the young man lying unconscious in behind the door, just like Tommy;

No, Roger flinched from the wall like it had burned him. His hands rattling on the doorknob again, fists pounding on the old door, his voice shrill and full of terror as he called out for his friend.

“John, god, please, just, if you’re in there, please just open, or just say something, John please!” 

Roger was pretty sure the other residents must have heard him, or at least his pounding and kicking but no one was coming to look for the cause of the noise.

His fingers hurt and he was sure if he kept this up, he soon would have a shit ton of splinter in his hand, but he didn’t care. He needed to see John!

Roger was still throwing his hand against the door when the resistance suddenly disappeared into thin air, his fist almost colliding with a mob of brown hair.

As he tried to pull his hand back in time he stumbled backwards, loosing his balance and awkwardly danced into the doorway, shoulder crashing into the frame.

“Ouch” 

The whine came more naturally than from any pain and as soon as Roger was back on his feet he stared at the person in question.

John stood before him, deliberately avoiding to look at him directly, body turned away from the blond as if he was afraid Roger would hurt him. His cloths were a mess, still in his sweat pants, hanging way too low on his narrow hips, bruises peeking out shyly; he had his shirt on the wrong way, probably because he only threw it on moments ago, hands tugged under his armpits, curling in on himself.

Rogers face softened. A deep sense of relief washing over him, seeing his friend alive and awake but at the same time an uncontrolled anger filled him.

Oh, how he wished he could just take John out of here, out of this shithole, away from the monster that dared to call himself father of the man shivering in front of him. 

His heart aching at the view and the fearful look he was sent almost broke it.

“John…”

Carefully and very, very slowly Roger stepped towards the younger man, who in return stayed still, not flinching away, which was a good sign, Roger thought.

“I won’t hurt you, do you want to…?” He opened his arms, stopping right before John, waiting for his answer, knowing that his friend would not easily state his own needs or wishes, would remain quiet and let the pain eat him alive.

John nodded slowly, unraveling himself a bit before stepping into Rogers embrace, pressing his face into Rogers neck, hot breath and warm tears, fingers clenching his shirt, figure shaking slightly; Roger let out a frustrated sigh, hands loosely coming around the other, keeping him safe for now.

In that moment Roger knew what he had to do.

As the two embraced each other, the shock still sitting deep in their bones, worry and hopelessness settling into their respective minds, Roger knew they had to leave.

So, he made up his mind;

Right here in this tiny flat his best friend had to share with his own abuser; right here in this godforsaken city that had taken his father away from him and tried to eat his family alive before spitting them out again, raw and broken; right here with his friend in his arms because it was the only save place for both of them.

“Pack your things.” 

John stopped breathing for a second, body tensing up under Rogers fingers, unsure if he had heard right.

“Take what you need, and some food maybe, and your bass. Your school things, books and notepad, take them. Leave the rest.”

If his mother didn’t need his money and if the cops really got their hands on Meyers then there was no point in staying here.

He had £9500 and he was going to use them.

“What…Roger, what are you taking about?” Johns voice was raspy, raw unequivocally from crying earlier this day, maybe only minutes before Roger had gotten here. The younger one moved back a bit, hands still gripping at Rogers waist not wanting to let go entirely, his face unreadable;

His green eyes, coated with unshed tears, cheeks red and puffed, lips raw bitten, he looked up into Rogers strangely calm face.

“We’re leaving. Tonight.”

They had talked about this, back when they had been kids fooling around with the band, dreaming about being rockstars and playing concerts and making music the rest of their lives. They had talked about this, the first time Roger had noticed the bruises, had learned the truth about Mr. Deacon and Johns family. They had talked about this, Roger had been rejected by yet another caster telling him he was never going to succeed with his temper and mouth, John being the only person to encourage Rogers dreams.

And now they were going to do it.

“I have money John, and you just finished school; There is nothing holding us back here. What could be worse than this? Just, trust me John, I know this is sudden but let’s leave tonight and never come back.”

Okay, Roger had to admit maybe that was a bit too much, it wasn’t like he didn’t want to see his mother or sister ever again, he loved them dearly but it was the truth; there was nothing for them to gain here anymore.

John seemed to think about his words a moment, brows furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line, nose scrunched up in thought; he let go of Rogers shirt, wiped his tears away with one arm, nodding before swiftly turning around heading for his bedroom.

Well that was surprisingly easy, Roger thought, a faint smile on his lips as he followed his friend.

In the end, they just took some of Johns cloths, some hygiene stuff, some meds from Mr. Deacon, his passport and other document they could find and deemed important enough, his school notes and some books and of course the old dusty bass that sat in the far corner of Johns room.

“Where will we go?” 

John had been mostly quiet while they packed so Roger jumped at the sudden sound besides him.

He thought about the question for a moment before turning towards the brunet, smile bright, eyes sparkling;

“London of course!” 

It made sense, there they could start a new life. They could get a nice little flat, Roger could get some drums or well maybe just some bongos and then they could audition for bands or musical plays or anything! There were a lot of schools there so John could continue his studies and Roger was sure he would be able to find a new and now maybe even legal job in no amount of time at all.

They could take the night line down to Manchester and then get onto the train to London, arriving tomorrow morning, starting a whole new chapter together.

Roger was back on track, the past worries shoved back into of his mind, forgetting about them now, knowing they will catch up with him sooner or later anyways. So why let them spoil their plans now?

London better be ready for them!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, will London be ready for them?? Or won't they be ready for London??  
> Who knows? I do :P  
> The next chapter will hopefully be out next week, and it will start focusing on the stripper part aha...
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed it and will stay around for the rest too !  
> I know it's by far not my best work, but we're only at the start so it can only move up from here ;)
> 
> Please let me know what you thought, if there were any misunderstandings or if you have some suggestions let me know in the comments or say hi on my [here](http://mrdisrespecthood.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  
> 
> Until next time  
> xx


	2. Keep Yourself Alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, as always, thank you so much for reading, your kudos or comments!!  
> I appreciate every single one of you !!!  
> Also I'm sorry the new chapter is only coming out now, I struggled with it aha  
> you can definitaly see when my motivation picked up and when it left and then came back again...  
> this is still unbetaed but I did my best to spot mistakes of course.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy now :)

It’s been a few busy days for Roger and John. Well, more like a few busy months, but you get the point.

They both did their best to find a part time job while they also spent almost every weekend auditioning for some band or Roger even for some musical numbers. 

After they had arrived, they had stayed in a motel for a few days until they found a nice little 2-room apartment which was a bit expensive but was situated in Camden Town very close to the Thames. 

There were a lot of little pubs and venues for upcoming bands so they had a fair number of places to try out. 

Only that until now, nothing really had worked out.

It seemed like their little rhythm section wasn’t as promising as Roger had hoped.

Some bands had taken interest in them but were often surprised how tame John and how wild Roger looked. They made quite an odd pair.

People would tell them, sorry you’re too pretty to be in this band, Roger took it as an compliment and moved on; other people would be intrigued by his voice but eventually rule them out for safety reasons, we’re sorry but it’s just too risky adding two unknown musicians; and the worst group of people were the ones that underestimated John.

Apparently bass players needed to be a lot more than just being good at playing the bass nowadays. 

Even if these people liked Rogers’ style or were convinced by their performance, they still found flaws in John. It was ridiculous, since when did every band member need to have an angelic voice fitted for singing or be a literarily genius? 

Also, Roger knew John often wrote song texts, it was just that he was not really comfortable to share them yet. The things Roger had gotten to read until now often touched his heart, John using them to cope with his past, working through his traumas in his songs.

So, if they only gave them one chance, Roger was sure, John would open up at some point and let these idiots see what he has been working on these past years.

The blond was currently on his way home from his work. He had taken on a job at a local market stall, helping some old lady selling her goods; it was only on Saturday morning till afternoon so he had the evening free.

There was no audition tonight. John had to study for his entrance exams and a break would do them good. John was at home studying anyways. The young man had taken a prep course over the past three months so he could try to apply for college. 

Sometimes Roger wondered if John even wanted to try out for all the bands Roger dragged him to. Or if he had just come along so he wouldn’t be left behind by the blond.

Either way he was here now. And they both could work it out, Roger was sure. 

The money was running a bit low though and even if Roger kept on working in different coffee shops and market stalls and whatever, he wasn’t sure if he would earn enough to pay rent in a few months.

They still a few thousand pounds left, it was just that Roger promised John to pay for the first semester of college should he be able to pass the exam next week. 

Roger didn’t regret that. He was all for John getting out of his shell and putting himself out into the world. He was such a smart man and loved to learn, always eager to improve and sought up any information he could get. It was endearing seeing him so animated and happy.

So Roger just tried to find better paying jobs and also not stress the music issue too much. As long as they stayed together and tried to make the best out of the situation, they were good.

They had a far better life here than back home and that was all that mattered for now.

The night had begun to fall over the buzzing city, the street were still lively and a low rumble from people talking, cars and trains on their way, music playing from pubs sounded through London.

It was so different from where they had grown up and Roger loved it.

He lived for the energetic atmosphere that was calming and exhilarating at the same time. It held something unpredictable in it. Nobody knew who you were or where you came from. What your story was. What your ambitions were. Where you would end up.

It was all a big mystery and Roger loved the freedom it held. There were no expectations, no plans, no deadlines; there was only his own will.

Roger turned right and headed for a local pub at the end of the street.

It was a small one but it had great beer and sometimes you could see the most interesting people coming in after the night had set.

Roger went to his usual place at the bar, the barkeeper sending him a friendly smile before placing his usual order in front of him.

He had only been coming here for a few weeks but he got along great with the workers here, so they remembered him of course.

Drinking his beer in silence, listen absently to the low conversations around him, he thought about the upcoming week. They had money to pay the rent at least until Christmas, so hopefully he could earn more to make sure they were safe and warm until winter was over.

If John managed to pass the entry exam, which Roger was sure of, he would have less time to work which meant Roger had to step up. He was the older one and also the one who had initiated the whole “Moving to London” thing so he felt responsible to make it work.

Halfway through his drink he noticed a guy that had sat down to his right.

It was a tall man, dark hair and sharp face, slightly toned and his beauty holding something intriguing. Roger couldn’t recall ever seeing him here before.

Apparently he wasn’t as subtle as he thought with his observation, the stranger turning towards him, an easy smile on his lips.

“Like what you see?” The voice was smooth, eyes dark as they drifted over Rogers’ body. 

Roger felt his cheeks blush, feeling as if he got caught doing something very inappropriate, but didn’t lower his gaze.

“I haven’t seen you around here before, that’s all.” He tried to sound nonchalant but he wasn’t so sure it was very convincing.

The pretty stranger huffed amused and leaned a bit closer towards Roger.

“First time here, normally I stay closer to my own neighborhood but I’m out looking for something tonight.” His eyes sparking, the other took a sip from his beer.

The atmosphere seemed to shift, tension filling the air around them, the lights somewhat dimmer, voices of the other customers fading.

Roger mirrored him, leaning in, his eyes focused on the face in front of him. There was something rough about his appearance, some kind of challenge lying underneath it; 

“And what would that be?” Voice raspy and low, eyes sharp, hands holding his drink he waited for an answer.

Only Silence followed. Blue eyes stared into brown ones, unwavering. Mouth suddenly dry and hands clammy, Roger swallowed. 

The man relaxed, leaning back, a quiet laugher escaping his lips. Roger felt like someone had dumped a bucket of cold water over him; released from his trance, the blond sat up straight, blinking rapidly. 

That was unusual.

“I’m Tim, nice to meet you…?” The man, Tim, extended his hand.

Roger took it, still a bit dazed, shaking it. “Roger.”

“Well, nice to meet you Roger, so what brought you here?” Completely avoiding Rogers’ initial question, Tim took another sip.

“Nothing special, just wanted to get a drink before I head home. So, Mister Tim, what are you looking for that you can’t find in your own neighborhood?”

“Hm, I don’t know yet, though I will, once I stumble over it.” Sending Roger a wink, Tim signaled the barkeeper to bring him another beer.

The blond was still curious what the other man had been looking for but decided to not push the matter any further. Instead he took a different approach;

“So, if you’re not from Camden Town, where do you live then?”

“Close to the Thames, I have a small flat in Covent Garden. I work there so I barely get around London. It’s nice to see something else for a change.”

“I work at the park in a little Café or I help out at the market, so I’m quite busy myself. I only moved to London a few months ago, so I haven’t really seen anything either.”

Maybe he shouldn’t tell this stranger so much about himself, but Roger found Tim interesting and he wanted to the conversation going, also what the worst thing that could happen? There are dozens of markets around London and there were people moving in and out of London on a daily basis.

“Ah, so where are you from originally? I work at the business of my old man. It’s hard work but the pay is good, so I really can’t complain.”

“Oh, some town near Leeds, you probably don’t know it. What’s your father’s business?”

Not quite comfortable talking about his origins, Roger tried to sound not too sharp. Also, if Tim’s old man payed good money, maybe he could find a work there.

“You’re so straight forward” Tim laughed but answered nonetheless, “He had an establishment for gentlemen who like to relax after work.” 

Well, that sounded strangely interesting. Roger nodded, “Sounds more fun than selling old clothes to even older people.” 

Tim snorted. “I can assure you, it really is.”

“You know, I don’t know how much the old granny is paying you or how the students are tipping you, but if you want, you could come by some time and try out as a waiter there.” 

Who was this beautiful man, being funny and charming and even offering a job at his father’s business? Rogers’ heart fluttered slightly, an unfamiliar feeling overcoming him.

“Uh, sure, yeah that would be great. I mean, only if you guys really have a job, I don’t want you to get in trouble…”

Tim shook his head, “Don’t worry about that. Pops should be happy I’m doing any work at all. I think you would fit perfectly into our little club. Only, I have one condition though…”

Roger tried not to sigh too obviously, his shoulders deflating a bit; of course, there would be a downside.

“…I get to take you out on a date.” The other man finished lamely. 

Rogers’ heart jumped, eyes flying up to stare at Tim. Wait what?

Tim just looked at him expectantly, waiting for an answer. Eyes big and without any malice, seeming so sincere and honest;

Nodding, Roger agreed quickly, “Sure, yeah…I’d love to. I mean, yes, I agree to that condition.” He smiled brightly at Tim who in return seemed to be just as content.

After that the two spent the whole evening talking about everything and anything. It seemed like they had been friends forever, conversation coming easy and without any awkward tension. Somehow Roger felt already connected to Tim, it was a strange feeling.

He was so used to John and how calm and collected the younger always seemed to be, it was almost refreshing to have some silly conversation after all the stress they’d been through. 

Not that he didn’t love being around John, quite the opposite, John was so easy to be around; Roger didn’t have to watch his mouth, didn’t need to change himself, John knew his antics and faults and he was one of the very few persons to deal with Rogers’ temper which the blond really had to give him great credit for. 

Anyways, as natural as it felt to be around John, it was almost the same with Tim. Roger was flourishing in their conversation; he told Tim about his childhood, about his father and how they had decided to come to London.

Tim just smiled, listening without interrupting the blond man, his eyes sparkling intrigued. In the back of his head, Roger knew he shouldn’t spill his whole life to the man he had only met a few hours earlier today, but right now Roger couldn’t bring himself to care.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” 

The comment caught him off guard, Roger pausing his reciting of his last birthday party, looking at Tim with surprised eyes.

Sure, he was aware of his looks, had been told enough times that he was looking like a ‘snack’ as one of the girls at his school had put it, but in London he hadn’t had that same feeling of sticking out of the crowd.

A faint blush crept on his cheeks, giggling he pushed Tim lightly, the alcohol in his system making him a bit sway a bit.

“Shut up, don’t interrupt me…” taking another sip from his drink, Roger tried to remember where he had been in his story, the burnt cake or-

“Ah, yes then my mother had actually forgotten to tell my-“, this time Tim didn’t interrupt with unnecessary words, no, instead Rogers’ sentence was stopped by a soft pair of lips suddenly capturing his own, shutting him up immediately.

After the first shock passed, Roger hesitantly kissed back, not sure if he was too drunk to care or too horny to give up the invitation; didn’t matter now, did it?

Closing his eyes and letting himself melt into the kiss, Tim’s strong hands feeling up his waist, drawing small circles, Roger brought his own fingers up to brush through the other mans hair.

The kiss was nothing special in Rogers’ humble opinion. It was good, no doubt, but he had better. Tim was a good kisser but the electrifying feeling of sparks and butterflies was missing, a bit disappointed but still in the mood for more, Roger moaned lowly into the kiss, earning him a harsh tug, Tim pulling his hips even closer.

An annoyed cough right next to his ear broke Roger out of the kiss. Almost falling of his stool, the blond quickly tried to balance himself, wide eyes staring at the barkeeper who shot him a displeased look.

Tim just grinned, digging some cash out of his pocket, slamming a few bills on the counter before grabbing Rogers’ hand and pulling him out of the pub into the cold night. Roger followed him without any questions, Tim just looked over his shoulder, catching Rogers’ eye, a sly smile on his lips and Roger simply smiled back.

 

*

 

It has been a few days since he had gone home with Tim and Roger was buzzing.

He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this content and relaxed even if the stress of moving, getting enough money and succeeding at an audition still lingered in the back of his head. 

John obviously knew something was up the second Roger had entered the flat the morning after meeting Tim. 

“Someone’s in a good mood” the brunet smiled, eyebrow raised, sending him an unsurprised look over the rim of his teacup while still working on some paper for the test. 

Sticking his tongue out otherwise ignoring the comment completely, Roger went on to tell John about his day at work and soon changed the topic to the upcoming exam.

John hadn’t tried to pry anything else out of him after that, clearly respecting Rogers’ privacy for now. He should just focus on the exam and after that, Roger figured, he could still tell him about Tim or the new Job offering he has been proposed. 

Today Tim had promised to take him down to the said club, showing him around and introducing him to the rest of the staff. 

Roger was excited to say the least. Tim was like a breath of fresh air, he was intriguing, his presence making Roger hot and cold at the same time, his rough voice sending shivers down Rogers’ back and these eyes; they hid something mysterious, something dark and dangerous that made Roger squirm every time he felt the lascivious gaze on him. 

Being with Tim was like smoking, Roger felt alive and high, but he also was well aware that something was wrong, very wrong; still whatever it was, Roger couldn’t bring himself to care.

Because he was seconds away from meeting the man and his possible new job and now it was time for happy thoughts; banning all his worries and concerns from his mind, Roger rounded the last corner, finally arrive at the given address.

The blond man could already make out Tim’s silhouette just down the street, he waved before coming to a halt before the waiting man.

A friendly but mischievous smile on his lips, Tim leaned down and pecked Roger on the cheek, his familiar smell immediately overtaking Rogers’ senses, who in response drew closer to Tim.

“Glad you found me, let’s go inside, alright?” Without really waiting for an answer, the older man pulled Roger towards the entrance. It didn’t look very chic or promising but what do they say? Never judge a book by its cover. 

Ignoring the butterflies in his stomach, the worn brick wall covered in moss and the overall rather tacky looking entrance, Roger let himself be dragged into the establishment.

Once the heavy wooden doors closed behind them with a harsh ‘thump’, they stopped for a second.

The first thing Roger notices was the intrusive smell; the hefty, musky cigar smoke mixing with something sweet, too sweet for Rogers’ liking. It was like someone had dipped a Cohiba Behike in marshmallow fluff and was now smoking it in front of the air ventilation. 

The next thing he noticed was just how dark it was in the lobby. The ground was covered in a deep red carpet, the walls black covered in old vintage paintings and mirrors, two pine colored armchairs standing in front of another black door, probably the real entrance.

It was kind of too quiet here. There was no sound coming from behind the door, or even coming from the outside. It was almost as if someone had put cotton balls into Rogers’ ears, even his own breathing sounded muffled.

The room was sparsely lit, only a dim ray of light shining onto the chairs and door, the rest of the lobby hidden in darkness.

This seemed very weird considering it was daytime outside. Just what kind of establishment was this?

Roger scooted closer to Tim, feeling a bit offset; maybe don’t judge a book by the first few chapters either; maybe just wait till the end to form an opinion.

Tim didn’t seem to notice Rogers’ stillness, or he choose to ignore it, walking towards the next door, pushing the blond through it without any comment.

“Calm down, there’s barely anyone here at this time.” Tim whispered into Rogers’ hair, his breath tickling the blondes’ neck, only soothing his nerves so much.

True to Tim’s words, this room was rather empty. 

There was a barkeeper cleaning the surface of the counter, some girls standing close to the backdoor talking quietly, apparently no customers here yet.

Low, sensual music was filling the room, lights not any brighter than in the previous room, but rather purple now, immersing the room in a lewder way than the graceful atmosphere of the lobby. 

Tim and Roger were standing on some kind of platform, a few stairs leading down to the main hall which was filled with ornate tables and seats, a long bar on the other side of the room, silver cupboards filled with fancy looking decanters and matching glasses glistering in the dim light, again walls hanged with mirrors and old paintings of abstract art, and to their right, there was a stage; a stage about 4 ft high, small lights enlightening the edge, leather seats surrounding it, one silver pole standing proudly at the end of it.

Roger swallowed. 

Taking another look around the room, taking the eye-catching stage, the velvet curtains at its end, the seats propped around it, the spotlights shining onto the telltale pole.

This was a bloody strip club.

The blond jumped at the hands suddenly gripping his shoulders, Tim’s rough voice sounding right above his left ear, “So, you’re ready to try out?”

Roger didn’t know if he should laugh or cry. His mind was reeling, just what had he gotten himself into? Did Tim mean he should work as a….no, surly not, right? God, how stupid had he been? Tim had called him beautiful and Roger had fallen for him, just like that; had completely ignored that he basically knew nothing about this man or his father and his stupid gentleman club. God, he couldn’t believe he had been this stupid.

Tim finally seemed to catch on Roger slight panic and quickly turned the blond around, their eyes meeting yet again. 

“Hey, woah, calm down. It’s not what you think!” Somehow Roger didn’t really believe that sentiment but he tried to calm down a bit. 

“Then explain why this looks like a bloody strip club right out of GTA!” His own voice was way too high for his own liking and he cursed his blessed vocal cords for betraying him yet again.

“Okay, yes, maybe it is what it looks like, but” Tim’s hands laid on Rogers arm, keeping him from running straight back out onto the street again, “but, I meant you could try out as a waiter!” Tim finished, fingers digging almost uncomfortable into Rogers muscles, he really was desperate for Roger to stay, wasn’t he?

“Well, why did you not warn me before bringing me here, or how about you told me about this gentleman club attractions right when we met? That would have been nice, thank you very much!” Roger moved out of Tim’s grip and stepped back a bit, his own hands rubbing were Tim’s fingers had been a few seconds ago.

“Oh yes, because that would have been any less creepy. Hey, nice to meet you, you want to work in my dads’ strip club?” Tim replied, annoyance clearly visible on his face. 

They stayed silent for a moment until Tim let out a tired sigh, rolling his eyes he stepped closer to the blond.

“Come on, don’t be like that. You’re acting like you have never seen such a thing, I mean, I’m sure you had your fair share of offers, right? And really, what did you think “gentleman club” meant? Don’t you think you’re overreacting a bit?” His voice was as sweet as sugar but his eyes still held a dark glint, his demeanor seeming rather pissed off.

Roger shook his head, hands coming up, stepping further away from the other man. Tim had not just implied Roger was a prostitute, hadn’t he? Roger could feel his panic dissolving and his temper rising instead.

“Roger, don’t be like that. I mean I get it, London is expensive so no shame in getting money any way possible, right? You don’t even have to do that here, you can just look pretty and serve some drinks, the tips you’ll be getting are going to be enough to pay rent, no need for a second or third job!” 

Okay, that’s it. Enough is enough. White anger blinding any of his remaining common senses, Roger drew his arm back, bringing his fist back up, punching Tim right between his pretty eyes. 

The other man was completely stunned, hadn’t seen the blow coming at all and just stumbled back. Roger on the other hand quickly gathered himself up and pushed past Tim, out of the room, out of the lobby, out of this bloody strip club.

He could faintly hear the other workers yelling at him, had the son of their boss just been physically assaulted right in front of their eyes, but Roger didn’t pay them any mind. He just had to get out. 

Once he was past the heavy doors and met with fresh air, out on the street, he let out a shaky breath. Fuck, what had just happened.

The other people on the street gave him a few confused looks but luckily didn’t get up in his business. Roger was grateful for that, he wasn’t so sure, he would be able to hold his temper right now.

Cursing quietly, the blond ran a hand through his hair.

Just how naïve had he been? He had only seen the excitement Tim had brought, hadn’t given the strange proposal any second thoughts, had been so ingulfed by Tim’s sudden presence to throw any caution out of the window. 

But how could he have been so wrong? Roger knew people. He had always been able to judge the character by a person behavior in the past. How could he have been so wrong?

It hurt. Not his hand, his knuckles had been through worse, but his heart. It ached with an unknown feeling, like it was left out to dry in the heat, clenching painfully and erratic. He should have never trusted Tim, shouldn’t have gone so far so quick. God, he was so stupid. 

He heard the door fall close behind him again. Before he even could attempt to turn around or ran away, he felt all too familiar fingers dig into his arm again, swirling him around.

Tim stared at him, eyes dark and pupils blown wide, hair tousled, lips split but, to Rogers surprise, there was a soft smile laying on Tim’s face.

“Fuck, Roger, that was unexpected. I seem to have misjudged you. I’m sorry” the quiet laugh sounded hollow and Roger tried to step back, tried to get away from the all to calm looking man in front of him.

“No, it was me, who misjudged. Let me go Tim, I swear I won’t hold back this time. Just let me go and we will both forget we ever met.” His voice was firm and steady and Roger tugged his arm back, Tim let him go without any fight.

“Woah, hey no, that’s not what I want okay, look, I’m sorry really. I shouldn’t have said these things. In my life it’s not something shameful to use your body for things like money and sometimes I forget how prude society still is and that my worldview isn’t universal. Roger, please, I really only wanted you to try out as a waiter, nothing more.” During his little rant, Tim had stepped back up to Roger once the blond had deflated a bit, seeming less aggressive now. 

The brunet carefully cupped Roger face as he finished, his hands warm on Rogers cheeks, an apologetic smile on the bloody lips.

His brows furrowing, Roger went over Tim’s words. It did make sense that someone who grew up with this kind of profession around them would see it as normal, like any other job, so could he really be mad at Tim for suggestion Roger worked in that…business before?

Also, Tim had just been punched in the face by him, in the middle of his fathers’ club and he still was apologizing. Maybe he hadn’t been so wrong about other man after all, maybe this was just one big misunderstanding. The unknown feeling vanished slowly, his mind relaxing a bit again, temper extinguishing faintly. 

It made sense, but that didn’t mean, it hadn’t hurt. Roger had to take a lot of shit, he had been through hell to make it this far but he still had his pride. And for Tim to take such a stride against his pride and his ego as well, let’s just say, he wasn’t known for handling insults lightly. He had an awfully thin pain threshold when it came to these things.

“Roger, come on, let’s go back inside. Let’s start over again, hm? Hey I’m Tim, are you looking for some cheap money? Come on in, in my fathers’ Gentleman Strip Club you can earn a small fortune by just serving some gin and a sway of the hips.” Tim laughed, it sounded forced and way too shaky to be of real amusement.

A pathetic try to lighten up the atmosphere but Roger appreciated the effort nonetheless. 

“Maybe…maybe I did overreact a bit. I just…I see where you’re coming from but don’t talk to me like that. I’m serious, Tim, I won’t take any shit from anyone.” Not looking at the other man, he still leaned into Tim’s touch slightly, his own hands finding their way to Tim’s hips.

“I trust you on that. Now come on, let’s go back.” The taller man already tugged them in direction of the entrance, when Roger stopped him again.

“Wait. I’m sorry too, about your…” instead of finishing the sentence, the blond quietly reached up and gently let his thump brush over the split lip, frowning at the hiss he received. His heart as well as his pride still hurt but he felt bad for the blow, even if it was just a tiny bit. 

“Shush, don’t worry. I like it feisty” Tim grabbed his hand, kissing his thump before kissing his still sore knuckles. Still holding his hand, Tim pulled him towards the entrance again, Roger following wordlessly, lost in thought, entirely missing Tim’s sudden irritated mood; missing the sharp gaze looking across the street for any potential witnesses of their little fight. 

Once back inside Roger felt even worse than the first time standing in the dark showroom. He could feel the eyes of the staff on him, Tim just nudged him to the backdoor where the girls had stood earlier. 

“Let’s introduce you to my father first, then the rest of the staff. Then I can show you the rest of the facility before you can get changed.” 

At the last part, Roger tensed up again, Tim immediately giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. “Just a black shirt and an apron, don’t worry so much.” 

Roger scoffed at that and tried to ignore his stupid brain and just relax for the time being.

They passed some more door, an impressive number actually but considering this establishment, Roger could easily guess what was behind most of these, feeling more unsettled by the second. 

At the end, they came to a halt in front of another unimpressive wooden door. Huh, somehow Roger had expected more. Before he could say so though, Tim already knocked on the hard surface, the knocks sounding through the empty hallway, echoing almost dauntingly.

A gruff voice sounded from the other side, bidding them to step in. Tim went first obviously, their fingers still entangled, he pulled the blond in behind him.

The room was decorated quite sophisticatedly, that, Roger had to admit. The wall covered in deep reddish velvet, more paintings hanging on the wall, the ground shimmering black in the light of the two lamps standing in the corners, an old mahogany desk covered in papers and books standing in the middle with a well-dressed man sitting behind it, staring at them with an interested glint in his eyes.

That’s probably where Tim got it from, Roger thought. 

“Pops, this is Roger. I told you about him a few nights ago, he’s here to try out as a waiter! He already has experience and well you can see for yourself that he is up to our standards.” Roger couldn’t remember Tim ever sounding so…breathless, almost insecure. It was just adding to his nerves and what did Tim even mean by ‘our standards’ was this about his looks again?

The old man, probably in his fifties, barely glanced at Roger, focusing more on his own son, a sour expression settling on this worn face. 

“What happened to your face?” The voice was smooth but a bit gruff on the edge, maybe from smoking, maybe from a strained throat, maybe just because it was. Roger had to stop thinking so much. 

Tim tensed up, one arm coming around Roger, pulling him closer to him, almost pushing him behind him. “Nothing, just a misunderstanding.” Tim’s voice matched his fathers, the unsureness gone, now sounding firm and rough.

“Timothy. You know I don’t need trouble. That means you also should stay out of its way. Is that understood?” Tim nodded quietly, his fathers gaze switching from his son to Roger, who tried to stay cool and not his nerves get the better of him.

“And you bring this boy, Roger you called him, here and don’t even introduce us formally? You bring a complete stranger to your father’s office, looking like that? Where have your manners gone?” Sharp eyes switched back to the man besides Roger, he felt Tim’s strong grip on his hands, his knuckles aching a bit.

“I’m sorry, sir. My name is Roger Taylor. Your son and I met a few days ago and he was so kind to offer me to try out in your establishment. I’ve been working for the past 2 years and have experience with all kinds of customers. I hope you will grant me a chance to show you my potential.” He didn’t break the eye contact once, holding the icy stare, that was now back on him. 

“Well Mister Taylor, as my son already told you, this establishment in mine, I inherited it from Tim’s grandfather. My name is Alfred Staffel, I appreciate your motivation and I can see your potential without having you try out here. Still, there is one thing you should know Mister Taylor, I do not like trouble. Bring problems and you’ll be gone before you even have the chance to explain your sorry arse. Am I understood?” The voice didn’t fit the words and the words didn’t the demeanor but Roger wasn’t about to argue or tell the man this.

He simply nodded, still keeping his face emotionless.

Tim grinned, pulled Roger to his chest, before placing a small kiss on his lips. “See? Easy, wasn’t it? I told you, you would fit in perfectly.”

An exasperated sigh sounded before them and Roger quickly stepped back, blushing slightly, Tim didn’t seem to mind one bit.

“Continue this at another time. Timothy, I want to speak with you in private. Mister Taylor please go back to the showroom, ask Abigail to show you around. My son will rejoin you later. “ Without waiting for any kind of response, the man stood up and turned around, walking towards an very old looking shelf, taking something out of the highest drawer.

Roger gave Tim’s hand one last squeeze before hurrying out of the office, away from this strange man that didn’t seem to make any sense, away from the unsettling atmosphere. 

He headed back to the said room, ignoring all the doors and pictures they brought up in his mind. He was here to be waiter nothing more, nothing less. 

After coming back to the showroom, he was met with two sets one curious eyes. One of the girls had vanished, only the barkeeper and a redhaired woman were left, both of them staring at Roger.

“I take it, you are Roger, right? Tim told he had met someone new who he wanted to try out here.” The barkeeper spoke, giving him a hesitant smile. 

Roger returned it and nodded, stepping forwards he extended his hand, “Yes, Roger Taylor, ready to report for duty! Tim’s fath- Mr. Staffel told me to look for Abigail” he turned to the girl, waiting for either conformation or denial.

The man took his hand, “My name’s Charles and yes the lovely lady here would be our Abigail.” While Charles seemed rather friendly towards Roger, the blond could still feel the resentment from the girl, Abigail. It made sense, he supposed, he hadn’t left the best first impression on them.

“Yes, I’m Abby. Then let’s get started, if you listen and do as I say, don’t fuck up any orders and don’t start getting cocky with the customers we will go along just fine.” Her smile was forced and she sounded more annoyed than anything.

“Don’t be like that Abs! Don’t worry bun, she just likes to act tough but once you get to know her, she can be a real sweetheart.” Charles winked at him before turning back, vanishing into what Roger could only assume was the kitchen. 

Silently mumbling a curse at Charles for calling him ‘bun’ - was he some kind of bread or what? - Roger turned his attention back to Abigail, who was currently taking a few menus out from behind the counter.

“I guess I’ll show you around then you can take a look at the menus and specials we offer, try to remember the correct names, prices and of course ingredients in case customers have any questions, after that you get your apron and we can get ready for the night.” The girl tugged the cardboards under her arm and gestured to the door which lead to the Lobby.

“That’s obviously the entrance, we do have a bouncer outside when we’re open, otherwise the room just serves as a waiting room.” She turned to the stage, “and this is of course the main attraction. In this room the majority of the customers spends their time and money so it has to be clean and inviting at all times. Don’t ever be rude or sassy to any customers even if they may act a bit…indelicate.” 

Roger swallowed at that, he could only assume what Abby meant by that, considering this was a strip club after all. Roger feared that this was going to be a bit of challenge, knowing his own temper all too well.

“Over there”, she pointed to the other side of the room, at the and of the bar, “there are the toilets and a cleaning room. If you go through here”, gesturing to the hallway Roger went down before, “you will of course end up at Mr. Staffel’s Office, but it’s also the way to our champagne rooms and some changing rooms. There’s also a door to the kitchen.”

Now Abigail turned again, eyeing the stage again before shifting her gaze to a staircase that Roger hadn’t seen before. “The private rooms are located upstairs, you probably don’t have to go there very often only if someone needs you to deliver something or to maybe lead a customer to his designated room.”

“I think that’s it actually, I’ll show the rooms later for a closer inspection but now I need you to look over the menus, once you’re done and ready to go, I’ll quiz you about our offers while I show you around some more. I’ll also introduce you to the rest of the staff then but now I have some more important work to do.” With that Abigail handed him the menus and swiftly turned around to leave through the door leading to the hallway.

Roger blinked. Somehow, he had a feeling that it would take Abigail more than a few days to get used to the new addition to their team. A small part of him was hurt that his usual charm wouldn’t work but the bigger just got excited at the challenge to get the girl to open up to him at some point.

Deciding that he couldn’t really do anything about it right now and considering that Tim was still missing in action, Roger strutted over to the bar and sat down, unfolding the menus and started to read through the content.

Already stumbling over the first few drinks, ‘Oblivion’, ‘Taste of Moon’ and ‘Liquid Soul’, what kind of names where these? Why not just serve simple drinks like Caipirinha or Sex on the Beach? Because this was some fancy ‘gentleman club’ that had high standards and only served unnecessary complicated drinks.

Roger sighed theatrically, looking over the endless list of drinks and food items on the cardboards. 

This was going to be a long, long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo what are your guys thoughts? How do you like Tim?   
> I have no hard feeling against Tim whatsoever, sooo I'm kinda sorry he's going to be an asshole in this fic aha
> 
> Let me know what you guys thought, also say hi to me on my [tumblr](http://mrdisrespecthood.tumblr.com/)? 
> 
> Thanks again and until next time  
> xx
> 
> ps: I promise Fred and Bri are going to appear in the next chapter !


	3. Dancer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So um, Hi I guess, it's been a while...  
> I'm truly sorry I didn't update in such a looooong time, I really feel horrible about it.  
> It's not that the ideas are lacking or that I don't want to write but I just never find time tbh
> 
> In this chapter we not only get Roger's first strip shows but Brian also entered the scene so hopefully that will make it up for you
> 
> Again thank you so much for still reading and commenting and everything!   
> I appreciate you all !!
> 
> First song: Disclosure - You & Me (Flume Remix)  
> Second song: Christina Aguilera - "Nasty Naughty Boy"  
> Third Song: Ciara - Body Party  
> The second dance was heavily inspired by the performance of the FOX Ngọc VDANCE group to the second song as well....

Roger was exhausted when he finally came home after work.

He wouldn’t have guessed that it would be this tiring to cater a few tables and be pretty without much trying.

Back when he had worked in the little cafes and shops, he never felt this drained when he had come back but maybe it was the time difference. He would just have to get used to it.

His new job at the club was otherwise working out really well. Tim wasn’t around that often but Roger couldn’t blame him. It was a bit annoying that they never saw each other and when they did, Tim was either drunk or pissed off at something.

Also while the crew had accepted him rather welcoming, Roger just couldn’t shake off that feeling that someone was always watching or better judging him. But maybe that was just the new job environment anxiety.

Tim also made some strange remarks the other day but the blond didn’t bother to think more about them. He should focus on getting as much sleep as possible over the night, since tomorrow he already promised to work an extra shift.

As he got out of his work clothes and changed into something more comfortable, Roger walked into the kitchen to see if they had anything left to snack.

A bit surprised he stopped in the doorway. John was soundly sleeping on the kitchen table, papers and books scattered around him and one lonely plate sat on the other side, presumable left there for Roger.

This was something that annoyed him as well. John had started school a few weeks ago and was now always caught up with studying, preparing or working on some assignment. The boy rarely seemed to take some time off to even eat or sleep himself.

And now he had either worked himself into unconsciousness or he had been so stupid – sweet – to stay up and wait for Roger. 

Silently stepping closer to the table, Roger let his hand brush through the soft brown hair, playing mindlessly with John’s strands as finally let his body relax.

Work was paying good, but not nearly enough. Roger had maybe underestimated just how expensive their life would get once John couldn’t work anymore. But Roger also knew, he couldn’t take another job besides the waiter job at the club. It would be too much; he barely found time to practice with his drums anymore and if he slacked off now, he and most importantly his knuckles would pay the price later. 

Tim had made more than one suggestion that he could always upgrade his position at the club and Roger found himself more and more often thinking about actually doing it.

It was a strange thought.

He didn’t find it as repulsive as when he first stepped behind the thick entrance door. It was an intriguing thought, somehow exciting and scary at the same time. It was just something on his mind, nothing he would really act on, or at least not right now. 

Right now he had to get John into his bed otherwise the younger one wouldn’t only be stressed about school and Roger working so much, but also complain about his back and not getting enough sleep tonight.

After some gently, but still empathic nudges John seemed to wake up, sitting up and whining at soreness settling in his body. 

“Rog, hey, I’ve must have fallen asleep. Wait, did you only get back now? It’s almost 4 am?!” The anger behind the words was swallowed by the sleepiness of John’s voice and he even cut himself off with a tired yawn.

He stretched and then lightly hit Roger on the arm, “You said, you would be home by 1, what happened?”

Roger shrugged and just pulled John up, too tired to give any reasonable explanation and still too stuck on his prior thought to trust his fazed mind not to spill any secrets. Another thing he disliked very much. Lying about his job had always bothered Roger, even back in Middlesbrough, he had hoped it all would stop once they started their new lives, but guess what: old habits die hard.

“You okay?” Now John just sounded worried and Roger groaned. 

“I’m fine, just tired. You were the one who fell asleep sitting at the kitchen table!” His own voice was rough but still had its usual playfulness, which Roger was endlessly thankful for. He didn’t want John to worry and he sure as hell didn’t want John to think he was mad or annoyed at how much he had to work now.

John should really only focus on school right now.

And still it hurt a tiny bit that the younger one already seemed to have given up their dreams about being in a band and playing concerts so easily. Roger rubbed his face, he needed to stop thinking!

After they both were tucked into their own beds and the flat was quiet again, Roger found himself once more drawn to the idea of “upgrading” his job title. 

Maybe it really wasn’t so bad. 

He had seen his fair bit of dancers and entertainers by now. And people just seemed to come there to watch and dream. You didn’t have to do private dances or anything you weren’t really comfortable with, and he always had a very charming persona and people already told him how pretty he was. Would it really hurt if he took a few bills for these compliments as well?

But it wasn’t just compliments from strangers, was it? It was putting his own body up for a show, presenting himself to horde of horny, old businessmen who came to the club to forget about social expectations, their job or even their families.

But he wasn’t the one who tried to escape his sad life; he was the one who gave them a chance to do so. He didn’t make the decision to come to a night club and drink and dream their misery’s away, they did that themselves. 

Also, since when did he give a fuck what other people thought about him or what he did?

And Tim also wouldn’t mind it, quite the opposite actually, Tim encouraged him to wear more…revealing clothing, to be cheekier with the customers, to just play the damsel in distress. 

And it paid off, he earned larger tips that way and people would look out for him as a waiter, as they wanted to be served by the pretty blond.

So what really spoke against changing his job?

Well, mostly that Roger knew, there weren’t any dancers that really only danced.

It wasn’t obligated but Roger was pretty sure that Tim’s father didn’t tolerate any kind of staff, that wasn’t willing to sacrifice a bit more for their jobs. They were reminded often enough just how sought after this club was and what a *privilege* it was to work here. 

You were expected to be thankful for this job, and Roger was to an extent, but to give up any dignity?

That scared Roger a bit. Because being paid for looking good or smiling smugly or even just blinking through his lashes when he was cleaning up a spilled drink, wasn’t really that big of a deal. 

But having customers that wanted more than just a dance and pretty looks; Roger swallowed.

He was tired and his head hurt and he was confused and scared and just overwhelmed with the whole situation. 

And the worst of all? He couldn’t really talk to anybody about this!

John didn’t know anything about his current job, only that he was a waiter. He really couldn’t exactly tell the younger one about this new job perspective. John would be disappointed or worse feel guilty or disgusted and Roger wouldn’t be able to deal with the younger ones judgement, not after everything that had happened. Though, he knew, John would probably never resent him but still, Roger didn’t want to risk it. 

That only really left Tim to talk to. And Tim would only try to pursue him and brush off his worries and Roger didn’t want to upset his boyfriend – could you even call them that? - and this whole situation just made Roger antsy and he wanted to sleep but he couldn’t and it was so annoying and…

He flipped the covers back.

Sitting up, taking a deep breath to calm his troubled mind, he threw his legs out of the bed. Getting up and quietly crossing the flat, Roger sneaked to John’s room. Listening on the door for any sounds suggesting that John was still awake, the blond pushed the door open.

He knew how to find the younger one’s bed even in the dark he had memorized the way and silently slipped under the covers, moving closer to the warm body. 

John mumbled something but also scooted closer to Roger. They ended up with Rogers arm around John’s waist, hugging him from behind, his face nested in the brown curls while John gripped Roger hand to keep him close.

Even if sleep still didn’t seem like a possibility in the next few hours, it still calmed him immensely to just be close to John, to smell the familiar scent, the comforting heat. His worries forgotten for a moment, Roger just basked in the quietness of the night.

*

In the end it had been easy.

Roger could have spent another few months going over the pros and cons of becoming what was basically a stripper; could have dreamt about the feeling when standing on that stage, focus of all these hungry and wishful eyes, being desired and wanted; could have stood under the water in their shitty shower trying to burn of the shameful touches some of their customers sneaked under the table or in the shadows of the dim lit bar; he could have done a lot of things, but in the end, it hadn’t been a real decision.

The rent went up again and they had to find something new. Something in a cheaper area, something a bit far out of London and even farther from John’s University; something that would have even worse heating and even more rodents; something that Roger wasn’t willing to take.

He liked it here. And the commute to John’s school was good and the people here were nice and helped each other and he didn’t want to move.

So, in the end, it wasn’t a decision – it was the only option they really had.

Of course, Roger never told John about his promotion. No, the only thing he told the younger one, when the brunet had confronted him with the rent had been a forced smile, brushing the matter aside. He had told John, that he explained his boss the situation and since he was such a charming person, his boss had easily agreed to pay him a bit more if he did some overtime work on the weekends.

John had frowned at that. 

The weekends were for band auditions, and while John had already kind of accepted the fact, that they really aren’t going to find a band any time soon, Roger had always been fire and flame for their little side project. To hear him dismiss his favorite time of the week so easily, John had been a bit suspicious. 

But he didn’t dwell on it and Roger was thankful for that.

And that was it.

He told Tim about his decision and the older one had beamed with excitement, already rambling about all the new possibilities and experience Roger was about to gain. Well that was one way to put it, Roger thought still a bit wary, but nodding along and trying to seem as excited as possible.

Tim’s father had been rather pleased to hear about Roger’s plans and had of course given his consent, informing him about the rules and restrictions they had to keep. The dark eyes had watched Roger closely and the blond couldn’t help but wonder how much he really would be in trouble if he were to break on of the mentioned rules.

Tim had dragged him away before he could think more about the unsettling smile that stretched on the old man’s face.

“This is perfect. You are going to be amazing, I already know it. No one will be able to take their eyes of you, they will never be satisfied with anything else once you take the stage. We have to put you at end of the rush hour, people will stay longer if they know something is coming up and we’ll make double profit. God, you’re going to make me rich baby” Tim hauled him into one of the spare rooms, already pressing his back against the wall while one hand still fumbled with the doorknob to lock the door. 

Roger felt hot and cold at the same time. The places were Tim’s finger dug into his skin ached pleasantly but there was still a shiver running down his spine at the whispered words. Was that what Tim saw in him? Merely an object to sell, to make money off? But wasn’t that exactly what he was?

Sharp teeth scraped over his neck, biting and teasing the sensitive skin as they made their way down to his collarbone were, they stayed for a moment, sucking hungrily, surely leaving a bruise as well.

Rough fingers pulled on his jacket, shrugging it off, before retaking their place at his hips, digging in painfully before lifting his shirt and kneading the skin beneath it, stroking it before wandering down again. Skilled fingers fumbled to open his jeans, Roger hissed when the cold fingers slipped into his pants.

His mind reeled, everything was too bright, too loud and too much. Roger’s mind was hazy, he was confused. His heart hurt but his cock twitched. He didn’t know what to feel. The music sounding from hall outside was muffled and yet it felt like the speakers were right behind Roger’s ears. The dimmed red light should be sensual and relaxing even but instead it disturbed him, like a warning signal it flared up and left him on edge.

Tim didn’t seem to notice Roger’s distress; the older man just kept going. His lips still working on marking the soft skin underneath him, fingers wriggling their way into Roger’s jeans as an eager leg pushed against Roger’s crotch.

That did it.

Roger was a lot of things, but he wasn’t about to be objectified by his *boyfriend* or whatever they were and then be fucked against the wall so all their colleagues and maybe even some guest could hear them.

No, that wasn’t going to happen. 

Roger grabbed Tim’s wrist and pulled them away from him, gently but firmly he pushed the man of off him and backed away, trying his best to keep himself together for the moment.

Tim stumbled back but quickly regained his footing, shooting him a look – was that worry or just plain annoyance? Roger shook his head; he couldn’t do this right now. 

“Not now babe, I need to get my head clear for the upcoming show.” He stopped for a moment, his hand already on the doorknob, unlocking it. The metallic click rushed a sense of relief through him. “You don’t want me to be too exhausted to put on a good show, do you? How disappointing would a first show be if the dancer could barely stand up straight?” He winked suggestively but his stomach churned at the words.

Tim seemed to consider his words for a second, then slowly he nodded in agreement before ruffling through his black locks and looking Roger up and down. 

“You’re right. You wouldn’t be much use in such a state, even though I am pretty sure a lot of people would pay a lot of money to see you wrecked and used.” He shrugged, “maybe another time, when you’re a bit used to the work.”

Roger was glad the lighting was kind of bad, as another shiver ran down his spine and he physically had to restrain himself from cringing at the degrading words. How could Tim just casually say shit like that? He grew up in that business, it was different for him; Roger repeated those words as he repressed the urge to punch Tim straight in the face.

Roger opted to just get out of this situation before he really lost his temper and left the room without another word. He headed down the hall, aiming for the bar to get some much needed liquor into his system. 

Though, before he could arrive Abby was suddenly pulling him towards the backstage area. 

“I heard you agreed to your promotion! That’s great! Our customers already love you as their little waiter but imagine their exhilaration once you step on that stage!” She exclaimed loudly, practically bouncing at him, her hand already fussing with Roger’s clothes and moving him to sit down a barstool in front of a mirror.

Did everyone here just see him as way to make money? Maybe all of this wasn’t that great of an idea and maybe he had completely misestimated the whole being a stripper thing. Because no matter how often he told himself, the promotion was for a dancer – an erotic dancer at that – in the end it didn’t matter. This was a strip club and he was about to become one of the attractions for it. Simple as that.

“Oh, what’s that face? Come on, it’s going to be fun! I’m sure Louis and Maggie will tell you the same thing! They started both last year, out of pure desperation and look at them now!” She smiled at him, this time it really seemed genuine and he couldn’t help but feel a bit surer about the decision. He wasn’t the only one; the other dancers also seemed to be happy enough so maybe it wasn’t that bad.

“Okay, back to business, let’s just focus on your first show and you’ll forget all your worries in no time! What do you wanna go for? Do you already have an idea what you’re going to wear or what music theme you want to use? You can do it a bit tamer, I’m sure, but let’s not forget that people want to be entertained!” She grabbed a brush and starred to work on the blond’s mess on top of his head, rambling about all the ideas she had and telling him about the other’s first shows. 

That’s how the next few days went on. Roger came to work, trained with Louis and sometimes Maggie and listened to them as they talked about their first shows and what’s important to remember and what not to do. It was a lot but Roger liked learning all this stuff, it made him feel a bit more prepared, a bit surer of himself.

Tim was his greatest supporter, even taking him out to shop for some clothing he could wear and he also helped him with his song choice. Roger wanted to do a tamer show at the start then come back at a later time and just dance without putting many thoughts into the performance.

Just something simple to keep the people happy and not freak him out at the same time;

John had sent him a few curious looks as he returned home, hands full with bags and even a shoe carton but didn’t say anything. Roger was grateful he didn’t have to explain why exactly he suddenly started wearing see-through crop tops and booty shorts and very interesting lingerie. The boots he could have explained though.

While the whole performance stress was slowly diminishing, Tim somehow managed to fuck everything over by telling Roger about the new client he invited for Rog’s first show.

“What do you mean, I need to convince them?” Roger scoffed at the black-haired man.

“Oh come on baby, don’t be like that. You just show that pretty ass of yours and do some winking and they’ll be goners, yearning for more. It’s gonna be easy, don’t worry. But don’t screw this up; really, this man could bring a lot of money. He’s a friend of Paul and you know Paul always brings in excellent clients. If we can get him onboard, Dad will be thrilled. Maybe then he will finally let me manage the-“ He stopped his rambling, side eying Roger before shaking his head.

“Don’t worry about it. Just don’t fuck it up. You know, you need this job and I don’t want the fun to be over so soon” He winked at Roger but instead of the usual attraction the blond only felt dread and disgust at the other man’s words.

“You do realize that this will be my first show? And that I have no experience whatsoever? And you are still willing to risk that much?”

Tim rolled his eyes and let out a annoyed sigh, “If you do a good job, there’s nothing to worry about, is there? So please, can we now just continue? You are really a lot today.”

Roger scolded but stayed quiet, knowing that he couldn’t change Tim’s mind tonight and if that guy really was that important he’d just have to suck it up. It had been his decision after all.

*

The night of the show Roger was antsy; he was running around the backstage area, tripping over his own legs and bumping into people left and right. 

His whole body seemed on edge, his mind was reeling with the upcoming event and his stomach was desperately trying to turn it insides out. After his third run to the toilet – were suddenly nothing wanted to come out anymore - Abby finally pulled him away and sat him down at the bar, placing a whiskey in front of him.

“Drink this. You’ll cause less damage that way and also get some liquid courage. You really need to chill a bit.” She didn’t sound annoyed really, more like she was a bit exasperated with the situation. 

“I’m trying to stay calm! It is not working!” 

“Shush, look at all the people here, look at them. They don’t know you and you don’t know them. Right now, you still have a chance to pull out; we can still call off the whole performance if you’re really that uncomfortable with it. You just need to say one word and I’ll tell Maggie to take your spot.”

She gently placed her hand on Roger’s shoulder, smiling at him, her eyes full of compassion and still, Roger knew she wouldn’t like it if he blew everything off. Of course she wouldn’t. They had spent good money on advertising the new performer and Tim was risking a lot by bringing new client – new important clients – in when Roger was supposed to have his first show. 

They would lose money and reputation and Roger knew, despite them all saying it would be fine and he shouldn’t worry, would he call this off, he would also lose this job and possible even more than that. 

Tim didn’t know where he lived, how to find him and he sure as hell didn’t know a lot about John and Roger was suddenly glad for that. Somehow it was comforting that he had managed to keep these two parts of his life separated.

He returned the smile and rose on shaky legs; the whiskey was gulped back in one swift motion and he was off the stage.

He could do this. He needed to do this.

Roger tried to focus on his appearance, redoing his hair a few times, pulling strands around his face to give him a bit off a wasted look, puffing the locks out before trying to flat them again when he wasn’t happy with the result.

Maggie had promised to help him with the Make-up and just set his face with some light power, a tiny tap with her blush brush and then giving him some mascara, because apparently his lashes were oh so amazing but still could use some empowerment. After they were done, his whole face felt dry and his eyes sticky, he finally thought he was done but Maggie pulled him right back onto the barstool in front of the lighted mirror.

“Wait, you need to put on some gloss, believe me, men go crazy for a shiny, plumb pair of lips. Also we need to set this whole thing because believe me honey, you are going to sweat.” She told him and pulled out a little glass container which smelt horrible like artificial strawberry.

The gloss was even stickier and Roger didn’t really like the feel and smell and overall he just wanted to get an away from all powders and tubes and brushes. He never understood how girls can spent so much time with these things, it felt wrong to wear all of that stuff, like he was covering up who he really was.

Huh, that sounded not too bad actually. Roger knew he was pretty and all but maybe this kind of barrier between his normal self and his working self was good. Maybe it could help him with coming to terms with what was really going on here.

“Ta-da! And we’re done!” She turned the stool around and Roger glanced at himself in the mirror. Maggie may only did a few things, but for Roger the result still was surprising. He looked softer, a touch of innocence and almost feminine; if he hadn’t known better, it really seemed like he wasn’t wearing anything.

“Looks good I guess” He breathed still a bit shocked by his face. 

“Wow, so much emotion. Well, you should get dressed now; I think Tim left the clothes somewhere over there.” And with that his colleague wished him good luck and was off to god knows where.

Roger went over to the shopping bags and looked through the stuff they had gotten earlier this week.

For the first show Roger had decided on a white sheer crop top and washed out low waist jeans shorts, he also had gotten a pair of classic timberlands to round off the look. The first show was supposed to give him a feel for the stage, a few dance moves, playing around the pole, getting the audience interested enough. Later he would come back out in a different outfit, this time more revealing and way more feminine.

Tim had been the one – what a surprise – to encourage him to try something a bit more niche. Insisting that Louis was already meeting all the expectations for good looking, well-muscled and unfairly hot stripper and Roger should aim for something more blurred.

As in he should embrace his wide hips, short height, his long hair and pretty lashes and just go it.

Roger didn’t know if he should take that comment as an insult or compliment but he figured he really couldn’t compete with Louis when it came to their body types. He had muscles and abs and all that, it was just hidden a bit, behind his soft tummy. Maybe he should cut back on the beer;

“There you are! Look I want to show you our special guest” Tim was suddenly next to him, wrapping his arms around Roger before pressing a kiss onto his lips, eyes widening at the stickiness of them.

“Ah, I see Maggie took good care of you. Looks good though, still I’m convinced the people would love the well-fucked look more.” He winked at him before pulling him towards the curtain and pushing the heavy fabric aside.

Pointing to a table near the stage, he started again, “That’s him, the one with ugly jacket or whatever that thing is. You see the feathers? Ridiculous, isn’t it?”

Roger tried to see who exactly Tim was laughing about but the lighting was too dimmed and he hadn’t have the greatest eyesight so it was hard for him to find the person right away. Though when one of the spotlights, the table in question was shortly lit.

There were three men and one woman. The guy Tim must have been talking about, judging from the brightly colored jacket, still had his sunglasses on and was looking fairly disgruntled. He kept on dismissing the man to his right side, a normal looking dude who looked a bit desperate; just what was going on down there?

The woman was wearing a thick coat and a long dress underneath it, you could clearly see the uncomfortableness on her face, and she looked out of place between all these men in their suits. 

On the left side of the bright jacket guy was another man, when the light caught his features Roger almost lost his balance; he would have fallen face first on the floor if Tim didn’t still hold his waist, fingers pressing into his stomach. 

The man wore a mixture of the woman’s uncomfortableness and the bright jacket guy’s annoyance. Still, Roger felt his breath catch, when the light illuminated the pale face of the man. The sharp features very prominent as unruly black curls framed them perfectly. Long fingers scratching an even longer neck as a sign of uncertainty, the man looked around the room. 

Roger couldn’t stop staring, even as the spotlight had already wandered again, leaving the table in the dark, the people sitting there masked again, the blond couldn’t tear his eyes away from where he had just seen one, if not the, most beautiful person he had even laid his eyes on. 

Tim didn’t seem to realize that Roger had just been star struck and just kept on rambling about the mysterious group.

“Apparently the little manager of his didn’t tell them they would meet us in a Dance club, or well, what kind of dancing is performed here. It was a hell lot of work to convince him to still stay and enjoy the show. So you have to work even harder to keep them entertained, alright? Don’t worry too much though, I think our friend here, is fairly interested in performances by our male staff.”

Tim pulled them both back, moving them over to where the clothes still waited for their time to shine.

“You feeling ready?”

The question was barely registered by Roger’s brain. His mind was still occupied by the warm brown eyes, the dancing locks and soft looking lips – woah, wait a second. Roger shook his head, Tim was right beside him and he was lusting after some random guy he had never seen before? Fuck, he didn’t need this right now, he needed to focus on the show!

Still a bit dazed, Roger clumsily undressed before pulling the clothes out of the bag and putting them on. Once he was finished and his mind had settled a bit, he walked over to the mirror again, looking at his reflection. Tim was also looking at him, his eyes wandering over the barely covered body, ranking over his backside before they stopped at his butt. 

Cold hands gently grazed over the waistline, feeling the goosebumps before slipping under the jeans material.

Roger already turned to push the eager man aside when he felt how his panties were pulled up, the tight fabric clutching uncomfortable on his dick, trapping his balls in an even more painful position. 

“You gotta give the people something to stay for later, if you teased them with a tiny piece of underwear they won’t dare to leave before we close.” 

Roger grumbled and swatted the fingers away, trying to adjust his underwear so that his blood could at least still reach his best parts. 

“Could have told me that as well.” 

Tim turned him around, trapping him in a hug.

“Now where’s the fun in that.”

Roger scoffed. Dodging away when Tim tried to kiss him again.

“I hate you.”

A hurt look on his face, Tim cupped Roger’s chin upwards.

“No, you don’t.”

Rolling his eyes, Roger couldn’t help but smile.

“You’re right, I don’t hate you, I-…I don’t hate you” He whispered the last part, hoping Tim hadn’t heard him. Did he really just almost confess his love to the other man? But he didn’t love Tim. He liked him, he liked him a lot but he didn’t, in no way, did he love him.

Hadn’t he just been punched in the face by the most beautiful man he ever met, well he hadn’t really been punched and he also hadn’t really met the man, but the sentiment still holds up.

He didn’t love Tim and yet he almost slipped up and let these three little words escape.

Fuck, this night was messing with him. Roger shook Tim’s arms off and ushered the man out of the backstage area. He needed to focus on the show now; he needed to get his mind of Tim and bright jacket guy and curly headed angel guy!

Roger glanced at the clock hanging over the mirror, it only were a few more minutes until his performance began.

Shaking his arms and legs, stretching them before trying to warm him up, which in retrospect was a very futile attempt since it was way too late now, Roger walked towards the stage entrance. Right now Louis was still out, getting the customers in the mood and Maggie was getting ready for her show later so Roger really couldn’t do much and just waited for his name to be called.

When it was finally time the light went out. 

The stage was dark as the first few notes of his chosen song played, timing his walk with the rhythmic bass he took one last deep breath before pushing the curtain aside and walking out onto the stage.

He felt hot and cold at the same time, the first few steps felt like walking on jelly. His mind was reeling with a thousand thoughts at the same time.

Don’t trip.  
Don’t fall.  
Don’t make a weird face.  
Smile.  
Not too much.

Concentrating on his choreography – which was a stretched term – he let the music lead him. 

He was a musician after all, the beat was all he needed. He didn’t focus on the people watching him, they were just faces, unnamed masks, barely important enough to spare them a second of his time.

He swayed his hips to the melody of the low voice, skipping over the stage towards the shiny silver pole. 

Once he reached it, his hand reached out and touched the cool metal. Fingers only grazing over the cold surface, his leg wrapping itself around the pole as well; a soft turn, not too energetic to bring him completely around the pole, but to give the audience a new sight.

Not even a second later he dropped down, moving with the bass drop, arching his back he slid upwards, hands still on the pole, keeping him on his feet.

He swung around again before finally letting the masks uncover themselves. He searched for them, capturing hungry eyes and playing with them. Holding their attention as he swirled and skipped and touched, letting them imagine it for a moment – that he was theirs.

Then he stopped again. 

Roger knew he was doing a good job, his skin prickled with excitement, he felt electrified. His whole body seemed on fire, every muscle behaved exactly as he said.

His hands left the pole instead now grabbing blond locks, his fists tugging before he dropped them, feeling himself. His own hands ranking over his body, his neck, his chest, his hips; before they dipped under the rough material, sliding the pants even lower as if he was taking them off, before turning around abruptly. 

A clap sounded through the room as he smacked his own hands on his ass, and he was sure he could hear a few wet gasps as well.

Gripping his own ass cheeks, kneading them, he pulled the pants back up, maybe even a bit too far, revealing a pale strip of skin that just ached to be touched again. Or at least he hoped they would think that.

A few more twirls and drops, elegant fingers pointing at nameless faces, building the anticipation, the music carried on, another few steps around the stage and then Roger made a mistake.

The man’s eyes followed his every move but his body spoke a different language. He looked like he tried very, very hard not to look, not to linger on Roger’s body, to find something else equally interesting and once they’re eyes met, it was over.

Roger smiled. He guessed that this man wasn’t as uninterested as he tried to seem, and maybe Roger was just high on adrenaline and the music didn’t only stimulate the audience in this moment but the blond suddenly wanted to keep the man’s eyes on him.

He knew he shouldn’t waste his time with only one person, if the other men noticed his exclusive looks they would maybe lose interest and if Tim saw him flirt with that guy he would not be happy, but this man was a friend or partner of the bright jacket guy, so how much could it really hurt.

Speaking of bright jacket man, he also seemed to be unable to take his eyes of Roger. Though, something different laid in the dark eyes, the gaze almost calculating or no, it was more fascination; Roger couldn’t tell with the shitty lighting and he had to focus on the music again anyways.

Soon enough the song slowed down even more, the voice echoing as Roger did a few last moves at the front of the stage before retreating still moving to the last drops of music. 

Once he was back behind the curtain two arms wrapped around his shoulders, Louis pulling him into a tight hug.

“That. Was. Amazing! Did you see how many you turned when you first walked out? Just after you got to the pole, people were already pulling the waiters aside to request you! And you’re not even done for the night!” The man kept on rambling about the reaction from the audience, pulling Roger towards him and absently pushing a towel into the blond’ hands, “Tim is going to be thrilled with you! I think his special guest really took a great interest in you! Maybe you can already seal the deal tonight!” 

Roger was a bit surprised that Louis seemed to know so much about Tim’s business relations but he figured it was a small club and there were ears everywhere in this business.

His mind was still hazed with the post-show excitement and Roger was feeling a bit high. His fingers tingled and his heart drummed in his chest, his whole body was still shaking with adrenaline. He really could get used to this feeling.

Was this, how rock stars felt after a gig?

Before he could ponder any longer on that thought or listen to Louis’ retelling, Tim was joining them, pulling Roger close towards him, eager finger gripping his ass and lips kissing him rather hotly.

The low moan that escaped Roger only seemed to spur Tim on even more and he pressed his body harder against the smaller man. The blond on the other hand tried to pull back; first of all, Louis was still standing there next to them, watching their every move – hello, awkward? - Secondly Roger didn’t want this right now, even if he felt much desired and even more attractive at the moment, his mind kept replaying the looks the mysterious man had sent him.

He couldn’t forget these eyes, the sharp silhouette, the unique hair; the man really had left an impression on him. But from would Roger could have guessed, he also seemed very intrigued by Roger’s performance. 

Maybe he could get him even more riled up – which he hadn’t really been, it was more Roger’s wishful thinking – and get him hooked on Roger. Then he had to come back and in the best-case scenario, he would bring bright jacket guy with him.

Tim was still sucking on his collarbone, still feeling over his back, fingers tousling in his hair, messing it up even more. The taller man made his intentions quite clear and Roger finally brought his hands up to Tim’s chest to push him away.

“Tim, please, not now. I still have another show to go, and yes I know, people would love a fucked out look more but I don’t prefer it. So please let’s save this for another time.” He glanced at Louis who was just watching them weirdly enough. Tim followed his gaze and scoffed, instead of replying he just let go of Roger and turned around.

“Good, then I’m going to find something or someone else to entertain me.” He sent him a strange look over his shoulder, “You’ve been awfully distant these days…” and then he was gone again.

“Huh, trouble in paradise?” 

“Shut up.”

Roger left Louis standing as he walked out of the backstage area to get to the kitchen. He was thirsty and hungry and annoyed at Tim and kind of horny and so fucking confused that he just wanted to get something to chew on.

The cooking staff was kind enough to not force him to have any conversation and just placed some fries and a coke in front of him. His earlier mood had turned and now he wasn’t exhilarated anymore, just kind of tired and pissed.

Digging in and trying very hard not to think about the special guest and his companion; Roger spent the rest of his meal in silence, watching the staff and thinking about his upcoming second performance.

He was happy with the first one. He felt proud of himself and somehow it had been quite invigorating to have so many people watching you for their entertainment, paying to see you, giving you all their attention.

Maybe this job wasn’t so bad after all.

After he was done, he quickly went back to the backstage area and got out of his clothes, just lingering in a bathrobe as he waited for Maggie to help him reset his Make-Up. 

First, she mushed up his hair, then she touched up the eyes and cheeks before getting a little container out of her Make-Up Bag. It shimmered in the bright light of the lightbulbs surrounding the mirror and Roger smiled, thinking about his finished look.

Maggie put a bit of the silver shimmery glitter on Roger’s cheekbones, his neck and collarbones were powered as well; shaking the container to get some more product out, the woman focused on his chest, though it seemed she just put it there without much care for detail; then she grabbed a bright red lipstick, smudging it on her hand to get a feel and then she was putting it on his lips.

It was a weird feel, not as sticky as the gloss but somehow still present.

He looked at himself in the mirror and caught Maggie’s eyes.

“You will blow them away.”

He laughed and mushed his hair even more. He wanted to look wrecked, just like Tim had told him, they would love it. 

Then he went to get dressed again, first he had to change his underwear, he would wear a lace pearl string boyshort in back and over it he would slip on a tight pair of blackish sheer stockings, they also had rhinestones incorporated. To keep the stocking in place he used a silver garter belt shimmering as well. His chest was fine with the glitter but he would throw on a black fishnet gown which had the same rhinestones as the stockings to keep the illusion up.

This time he also wouldn’t bother with shoes, he was planning on performing a real show and since he was only capable of so much, the shoes would have to wait for his more experienced shows.

Soon Roger was all ready for his next big moment so he waited by the stage for his turn.

When the lights when dark and Eliza came off the stage, he barely had any contact with her yet so he just smiled at her when she passed him.

Then he went out behind the curtain, the sultry voice already starting the song and soon the music set in. Moving up to the front, feeling his steps to the beat, Roger twirled at the pole for a few times before standing up front at the stage.

He kept the smile of his face this time, trying to look hungry and disinterested at the same time. Then he leaned over, curling in on himself, his fingertips reaching for his toes before he went up again, slowly uncurling himself again.

Turning his back towards the audience he swayed his ass to the music before dropping to his knees, stretching one leg to side and stretching himself again. Then he brought the other leg to the same side as well, crossing the legs before sliding them underneath him so that he would face the audience again.

Now he just focused on feeling himself up and down, his hands brushing through his hair, tugging on the gown, scratching the stockings; he bit his lips as his lidded eyes found the ones of the mysterious man. The atmosphere seemed enchanting and Roger continued his show as if he was in a trance. 

The music boomed in his ears and he slowly humped the air as he laid on his back on brought his hips up, his neck overstretching and his mouth slightly open in a silent moan.

Rolling up into a shoulder stand before sliding one leg down, striking a pose and letting the other leg also come down, rolling over and pushing his ass up into the air he always kept his eyes on the man. Right now, he didn’t care for Tim or the other people watching, he didn’t care that he had no clue who that man even was or how they shouldn’t single one person out; all Roger cared about was keeping those dark eyes on him. 

Some rolling and skipping and sliding later he was once again on his knees facing the audience, this time he rolled his whole body before putting his hands in front of him, arching his back and tossing his hair, strands catching on his lipstick but he didn’t really care.

After the song slowly drizzled out and the next one started, he was pulling himself off the ground before dropping directly in front of the pole, his crotch sliding against it, the cool metal grounding him for a moment. 

The song was a bit slower paced and less on the sexy side but still it worked perfectly as he twirled himself around the pole, before dropping down again, stopping when the beat dropped starting up again when the song picked up again.

This time he couldn’t see the man, his position not allowing him to see if he still held the attention of him, thought, Roger was sure, there was no way in hell anyone could take their eyes of him right now.

He only learned a few of the moves for the pole, so he was still pretty scared of actually getting into the air; a normal front hook or back hook was fine but something that Maggie had called the ‘attitude’ left him a bit shaky once he was back on his feet.

The blond really needed to train more on this metal thing if he wanted to spice his shows up. Or he would have to put in the extra work into his choreographies. Either way it would be a ton of work.

But that was for another time, now he had to get to the end of the song.

After he got off the pole he slow danced for some more and then it was already time for him to get off the stage and while he felt just as excited as the first time, he somewhat felt more confident; he really did a great job tonight. 

When he came backstage, he was alone. Maggie was off to god knows where and Louis had taken on the stage again. 

Roger didn’t mind, his head was still spinning from all the twirling and moving and the music and the feeling of excitement. He walked over the sink and washed some of the sweat and grease of his hands and cleaned up his smudged lips. 

When he was finished Abby joined him, she waved with a bundle in her hands as she walked up and grinned like a madman.

“Wow, that’s what I call a big final of your first day! You were amazing, sweetheart! And look, that’s all you made in just one night!” She gave him the bundle which Roger now recognized as bank notes. 

His eyes went big when he saw just how much he had just made. 

“You still need to pay the fee and I don’t know if Tim already told you about the other…costs but it’s still a shit ton of money” She laughed and put her arms around his shoulders, Roger didn’t really know what she meant with ‘costs’ but right now he was too overwhelmed to really care for any of it.

The woman moved them both towards the exit, rambling on about all the compliments Roger had gotten and how many had already request private dances and when the next show was and since when did Roger dance and what not; Of course, they hadn’t asked for Roger, they didn’t know his real name. 

In the club he went by “Rainbow”. Tim had come up with it, said it fitted him because of his colorful wardrobe. Roger had liked it so that’s who the customers were probably asking for. Not tonight though, the blond wanted to just meet the important guests and then finally go back home.

When they entered the showroom, Roger’s skin prickled at the eyes still following his every move. 

The blond looked over to the where Tim’s guest had been seated only minutes ago but now the place was unoccupied, empty glasses and the smoke of a recently blown out candle the only signs of them left; 

They had already left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, please let me know your thoughts about the chapter and esp. the shows.  
> Were you able to follow the dance or was it too confusing? It's so hard to describe these things uff
> 
> If you missed my writing and wanna maybe read more Maylor, I have two One Shots up that you can check out :)  
> Would mean the world to me!
> 
> Thank you again and until next time!
> 
> xx


	4. Under Pressure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies!! Thank you so much for sticking around and the love you show this little piece of mine!  
> This chapter will just be pure drama and nothing more aha  
> I hope you all enjoy this even if it's a bit shorter than the others ;)
> 
> Now please enjoy :)

Roger was quite pleased that his first show had gone rather smoothly.

After Abby had given him his money, and Tim had later then taken some of it again, he had told them he didn’t want to do private dances just yet.

He wanted some more experience on the stage before getting close with someone in one of their private rooms. That’s why he spent the rest of the week either looking for music and outfits or practicing some new chorography.

His colleagues were actually very helpful with that, assisting him with letting him do some lap dance on them, Tim always somehow ended up on those training sessions, and finding new exciting props he could use. 

The money that came with the shows also was a very welcomed effect, much better than the aching muscles and sore hands. While he loved the experimenting, Roger also noticed just how exhausting these long and pompous performances were.

He caught himself more and more often on the edge.

When he came home, he beelined right to his bed and falling down, too tired to even take his clothes off; often John would wake him, mostly unintentional when he got ready for his classes and closed the bathroom door too hastily or a book slipped out of his bag.

This would then lead to him huffing at the younger one, his tired self being less rational and more agitated when interrupted. Roger would drag himself out of the bed, having slept not nearly enough but also not able to fall back asleep when John would roll his eyes at him and just leave without any word.

Roger would curse at himself and at John and at the world, make himself some coffee and then take a shower before heading off to the club.

That was his routine now, and to be completely honest, he hated it.

He couldn’t stand the tension and exasperation that build between them. 

But right now, there was nothing he could do to soothe it. 

Instead he would go on and work until the exhaustion brought him home again, fall in his bed, get woken up by John, get grumpy at him, the circle never ending;

Today Tim was sitting at the bar, turning around when Roger entered the club, waving him over.

A plate with eggs and some toast was placed in front of the blond once he sat down besides Tim. Roger slowly began to eat, not really too hungry but needing some energy for the show later, Tim just stared at him for one more moment.

Then the older one started, his face calm and without any sign of its usual mischievousness, “I know I told you, you can always choose what you want to do here but there was a request.” Roger nodded, moving the scrambled eggs around the plate, a bit unsure about the tone Tim used. “This request was brought by someone very important.”

Roger squirmed on his stool, not liking where this was going, “so I wanted to ask, if you already know when you are going to do private dances.” Tim looked him, a tiny smile tugging at his lips and Roger’s shoulders slumped in relieve. 

“Hey, hey, no need to look so ghastly, they can wait a bit. Increases the anticipation.” Placing his right arm on Roger’s shoulder, Tim pulled him closer, his mouth just brushing over the blond’s ear, “will make them so hot and bothered to wait for you.” 

Roger fake retched and shoved Tim off of him. “You’re disgusting, did you know that? I am eating.” He poked his tongue out and Tim laughed. “I don’t know yet, maybe next week? Just don’t feel ready yet, especially if these people are oh so important. Don’t want to make a fool out of myself.”

Tim snorted and stood up, “You couldn’t even if you tried. Believe me babe, you have nothing to worry about.” He turned to leave, waving his hand in a short goodbye and then he was gone.

Roger let his fork fall onto the plate with half of the food still on it, he was glad Tim was being considerate but somehow this whole conversation still left a sour taste in his mouth.

Just as he was about to also hop off his stool to get to work, Abby came into the showroom, heading straight towards him, her face a tad more serious than Tim’s.

What was it with everyone today?

Roger waited for her to sit next to him, she firmly placed her clipboard on the counter, a guarded look in her eyes.

“Morning Abbs, what’s wrong?” 

She glanced at the plate and then at Roger, looking him up and down before sighing. 

“Someone asked for you.”

God, not again, not once in the past week had anyone bothered him with this stuff but now, they were suddenly all interested in him? He groaned and let his hand run through his hair, shaking his head.

“I’m not interested. I already told Tim” he sent a pointed look towards the door the other man just disappeared through, “I won’t do private dances just yet. Give me a few more days.”

The woman scoffed, her eyes burning through him, “they didn’t request a dance, Roger.” Confusion ran through him, brows furrowed as he stared at the brunette waiting for her to continue. “They saw your show, the first one. Took them a while to come around but they wanted to know stuff.” 

Roger didn’t have any idea what this was supposed to mean, shrugging his shoulders, Abby seemed to get the hint. “Stuff like since when you work here, where you lived before, where you live now.” She shot him another calculating look and Roger suddenly felt way more uncomfortable than he had with Tim only moments before, “this is serious, Roger. They didn’t seem like they really needed answers. Just conformation.”

“What did they look like?” His voice was tight and he had to swallow a few times to get rid of that scratchy feeling in his throat.

Abby raised her eyebrows, sending him an unimpressed look “Why does that matter? Do you think you know them? I didn’t take you for the guy to float around that you work as a stripper.”

Roger choked on his own saliva at that word. Never had he referred to himself as that…but she was right in a way, wasn’t she? Not important right now, he reminded himself, that strangers were asking for him? Here in London? That seemed more than interesting.

“It was three guys, they came yesterday, after you’d already left.” She looked around the room, making sure nobody was listening in on them, “One white guy and two tanned guys, could have been from the east or something. The white guy asked for you; broad built guy, short blond hair and really deep voice.”

Roger thought about the description for a second but it rang no bells, not surprising given the vague description. He shook his head and Abby sighed.

“I told them to get the fuck out of here” Her eyes were cold and her stare was unforgiving, “Roger, really I couldn’t care less who you associate with but let me say this, if you bring your dirty business in here, you’ll have far more problems than being short on money and Tim wanting you to be his friends’ toy.” with that she stood up, snatching her clipboard back up, leaving a more than stunned Roger behind.

Before she disappeared behind the same door Tim went through, she turned around, “and we got more requests, Mr. Staffel really expects them to be taken care of soon enough” and with that she really was gone. 

Roger scoffed, slamming his fist on the counter and jumping up, what the fuck was that about? He didn’t know anybody here and why would people ask where he came from? Was that really important if he swayed his ass in front of their eyes? But Abby said they hadn’t requested a dance, so what had they really wanted?

And what was that comment about his dirty business, Roger never had brought trouble into here! And Mr. Staffel could go fuck himself, Tim had said he could wait some more so he would!

God this day was already ruined.

After the whole incident, Roger was even more tense and he already dreaded the judging looks he would get from John. The younger one would be on his ass the minute he stepped back into the their flat.

Still, the blond managed to get through the day somehow cheeky and flirty without messing up any of his performances. Once he was back under the burning lights and the beat of the music flowed through his body, he let himself go and just delivered what the people were waiting for.

Every now and then he’d catch a glimpse of Tim, the man would watch him with an unreadable expression, often sitting with some really important looking men and discussing stuff that Roger didn’t even what to know about.

Instead he let his eyes thrift through the crowd, searching for the same group from some time ago, but never would his eyes reach their destination; never did the group return and somehow that just annoyed Roger even more.

Just a few more hours and he’d finally be done with this day.

*

Days later Roger had finally decided to take on the request and given Abby the green light for scheduling some private dances. His only request was that she wouldn’t pick the most nasty and obnoxious ones on his first days. 

Luckily the guys from earlier this week hadn’t showed up again so the woman was in a good mood and promised to only pick the crème de la crème. 

His whole focus was now on perfecting his form which mostly meant he would give Tim endless lap dances that more often than not end up in some even more exhausting actions. 

However, when he didn’t need Tim’s ‘help’ with dances or outfits the other man was almost never around anymore. He wasn’t outright ignoring Roger, but he was far more distant and always seemed to be on edge, like he was waiting for something to happen. Roger didn’t ask about it, he had enough of his own problems as it was.

Said problems mostly involved John. 

Their little arguments rapidly evolved into full blown fights, thanks to their both rather short-tempered nature. John, stressed from assignments and his worry about Roger’s health and working hours, and Roger, constantly stressing about his work and the subject of his work and the whole moral issue, it really was just a bad mix.

So, when Roger got home that night and John already waited at the kitchen table, a plate next to him and his school books still or maybe already closed on the other side, the blond just rolled his eyes at him.

“This is getting old, you know that?” He crossed the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge, he needed one for this talk.

John followed his movements silently, his mouth a tight line and his eyes sharp as ever.

Roger flopped into the chair next to the other man and eyed the empty plate before looking back up to the fridge, contemplating if he should maybe eat something after all. It would keep John happy at least.

But he really didn’t feel hungry and if ate this late it would mess up his stomach so maybe a beer was enough nutrient for the night. 

“You didn’t have to wait up for me, I appreciate it but you should really get your 8 hours of sleep.” 

John huffed out a humorless laugh, raising his eyebrows at Roger, “What makes you think I could sleep when you are still out there doing god knows what.” He sat up in his chair, putting his hands on the table, leaning forward as if he was just really engrossed in Roger’s answer.

“I told you, you do not need to worry about that. Focus on school and leave the rest to me.” Roger really tried to sound not annoyed, tried to keep his calm and just ignore all of the emotions battling for the upper hand in his heart.

This was just another one of their little arguments, Roger would lie to soothe John’s worries, John would tell him he shouldn’t lie to him, Roger would vow to be home sooner, John would call him out on his bullshit and in the end they would just get both too annoyed to be in one room much longer. Fuck, Roger hated all of this.

“Would you stop with that school bullshit for a moment?” 

This was not what Roger had expected. 

“Why is school the only thing you’ll talk to me about? Why won’t you understand that I worry about you too?” 

“Because you wanted to go to school and I pay a lot of money so you can fulfil your dreams, so of fucking course I want you to be fully committed to it!” This was getting ridiculous! Roger did everything so John could get the education he sought after and now he was getting angry over Roger asking him to focus on that? After John decided to not care about their whole music thing? Now that Roger finally was at peace with John being only here in London to purchase a career in engineering or whatever? “And I don’t know how often I will have to tell you this, but you do not need to worry about me!” 

The broken laugh that escaped John sounded cold and vile. Roger flinched at the unfamiliar sound.

“I don’t have to worry about you?” The amused expression switched to an icy stare, John sat back, fingers gripping the table; to keep himself grounded; to steady him; to keep him from lashing out, Roger wasn’t sure anymore.

“When was the last time you slept more than 5 hours? When was the last time you came home before 3 am? When was the last time you ate something substantial? You don’t tell me anything! Where you go, where you sleep, where you work! Nothing, and I should not worry?” John’s voice grew more and more louder the longer the rant went on and Roger knew this would end very badly if he didn’t interfere soon, but every time he opened his mouth to reply one look from John would silence him again.

“How do you expect me to just ignore all of this? To just look away when you look moments from crashing down, reeking of beer and cigarettes and cheap perfume? To go to bed when I don’t if you will come home alright?” His voice cracked and Roger’s heart ached at the wounded look on the younger man’s face. He never intended to make John feel this way, but what other choice did he have?

Then the hurt look changed again, the pleading eyes averting their gaze, now staring at the table, hands shaking slightly, John continued “maybe if you weren’t always out and fucking god knows who I wouldn’t have to worry so much.”

Roger gasped and really it was almost comical how he looked at that moment, his mouth gaping like a fish stranded on the beach, grasping at John’s words, trying to come up with something, anything really.

Then the moment passed and Roger fully registered just what the younger one had said. And he didn’t appreciate it very much. His temper flared up like gasoline thrown in fire. How dare he judge Roger like that? How dare he imply such things about Roger? After everything Roger did for him?

“You have no fucking idea just what-“ the man stopped himself, hands still curled into fists, chest heaving, eyes sharp on his friend sitting next to him. He couldn’t finish that sentence, not if he didn’t want John to find out.

But John wasn’t done yet, he didn’t deflate or curl in on himself, he wasn’t impressed or really much effected by Roger’s outburst, instead he fixed him in a cold stare.

“Oh no, please continue Rog. I have no idea of fucking what? What do you do that is so secret and forbidden to know? Because damn right, I have no fucking clue about anything and it’s exhausting, fuck Roger, don’t you get it?” His voice was raw, his eyes burning into Roger’s, hands trembling even worse now as he fully turned towards his friend.

“You are the only fucking one I have left!” 

Roger’s breath hitched; his eyes trained on the man staring at him. And damn, John looked so young in that moment, his soft face scrunched up in an ugly mixture of pain and guilt and fear, his whole body shaking like a leaf, voice tight and strained and Roger couldn’t get a word out.

John let his head fall into his hands, a dry sob escaping him, “I only have you now and fuck, Roger I can’t lose you as well!”

That was enough, the blond got up and stood next to the trembling man, wrapping his arms around him to ground him; to guard him from all the hurt and pain; clutching him tight and holding him close, their chests heaving against each other when John hugged Roger back, pressing his face into Roger’s neck as they both let their emotions get the better of them for the moment.

His voice broke as Roger spoke, “You won’t. Never, I promise.” His head hurt, helplessness flooding his thoughts and then there was this unforgiving guilt, weighing him down, burning though his system.

He was the reason John felt like that; he had made the other man feel like that. This was on him and he had to do something. He couldn’t let this happen again; John deserved so much better than this.

Roger drew in a shaky breath, body relaxing only slightly when he felt the younger one calm down again.

They sat there for a while. Roger whispering hushed apologies into the soft brown hair while John just held onto his friend, afraid to let go and be alone again.

This wasn’t the end of it but it was a small step into the right direction.

*

When Roger returned to work, he was a complete mess.

He didn’t know what he should focus on first. Tim had texted him that his father wanted to see him again and he still had his first private show coming up and even though the tension between him and John had resolved a bit, it was a very fragile ground they now walked on.

He didn’t know what had become of the guys who had asked for him; he didn’t know what Mr. Staffel needed from him; he hadn’t talked to Tim in private for days now and Roger didn’t know how to deal with all of this anymore.

The constant edged on feeling left him exhausted so when the blond man stepped towards the familiar wooden door that would lead to the dimmed office, he felt like he could drop dead any moment.

Even knocking proved to be quite the obstacle and Roger would have laughed at him if his knees weren’t short on giving up at any moment, sending the blond man tumbling through the door once the sharp voice sounded from within. 

Mumbling a hasty apology, Roger went on to take a seat on one of the provided chairs, keeping his eyes on the ground. Mr. Staffel sighed, staying quiet otherwise.

Moments passed and finally Roger mustered up the courage to lift his gaze, meeting just as curious but less alarmed eyes. 

The stretched smile on the old man’s face sent shivers down Roger’s spine and he sat up a bit straighter and wrapped his arms around himself. Whatever this was about, he was sure it wasn’t something good.

“Rainbow” the nickname sounded wrong, deceitful and almost venomous came the voice and sent goosebumps across Roger’s skin.  
“I’ve heard good things about your performances. People like you and your little shows.” Long fingers played with a black pen, playfully letting it flip around as if this whole conversation was just some boring little small talk; Roger swallowed and mumbled a ‘that’s good to hear’ but stayed silent otherwise.

“Yes, that is indeed good to hear. Timothy really found a great addition to our little club, didn’t he?” The pen was placed on the desk, hands now laying flat on the surface as cold eyes stared right at Roger.

“At least that was what I first thought.” 

Roger almost flinched but somehow managed to stay frozen to the chair, throat dry and eyes wide, staring at the pen, waiting for the man to continue.

“You see, Rainbow, here we don’t want any trouble. No drunkards who forgot their temper, no junkies who forgot to pay, no pseud gentleman who thought they own our staff; we are different then these pretentious fake brothels.” Mr. Staffel drew himself back, leaning back on his chair as he let his gaze wander over the room, stopping at something behind Roger. “And that has kept us in business. We acknowledge the needs of our clients and meet them the best we can, that is all we do and this is all we should have to worry about.” He looked back at Roger.

“Don’t you think so as well?”

Roger didn’t look back up; he kept his eyes down but nodded slightly. His heart raced in his chest and he could feel cold sweat break out on his neck, dread overcoming him.

“So, you seem to understand where our focus lies. That is good.” The man scratched his chin, eyeing the blond, “Then I am sure you can understand that I do not have the time to focus on more…trivial matters.” 

Again, Roger nodded wordlessly, fearing where this was going but also not daring to interrupt.

“The lovely Abigail already told me, she reminded you of this. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to help the issue.”

Roger’s fingers drove into the leather underneath his hands; this really was about the people showing up and asking for him then. 

“You are attracting a lot of attention. Some is good, some is bad.” Another pause and Roger was sure he’d go crazy. “Rainbow, you are good at your job, you bring a lot of new clients and also entertain our regulars. Consider yourself lucky because that is the only reason why I am doing this.” The chair squeaked and Mr. Staffel leaned forwards, arms placed on the desk, he waited for Roger to finally look back up. 

Once the blond did, he continued, “The people who have been asking for you seemed to be from a town far from here, they were looking for someone who stole quite a bit of money from someone very, very important. It does seem like this person, is indeed, you.” 

Roger’s stomach dropped and he couldn’t stop the shocked gasp that escaped his lips; they were here. They were here and they were looking for him. God, they almost had found him. Fuck, if they had found him then they would ask for their money, the money he had taken to pay for John’s classes. Oh my god, John! They knew him as well! 

He could feel himself panicking, his heart going way too fast and his head heavy and throbbing; he needed to get out, he needed to leave London; he couldn’t stay here, they would find him! They would-

“Let me finish.”

Roger’s eyes shot up, frantically staring at the man in front of him, who seemed to be in the complete opposite state than Roger. Calm and collected, almost bored but with a glint of mischief sparkling in those dark eyes.

“I don’t like to repeat myself, so try to actually keep what I’m telling you.” The look turned stern and Roger nodded solemn. “I said, I like you and your little shows. And if I like something, I tend to care for it. So, if you vow to stay here and work for me, I’ll take care of your little problem. You won’t be bothered by them, or really anybody, as long as you offer your services in my club.” A thin smile spread on the old face and if Roger wouldn’t have been scared shitless already, the ugly grimace would have managed just that. 

His thoughts raced through his head and he knew that he’d have no time to really think about this little offer, no, he’d have to decided here and right now. One thing was clear as the day without spending any time thinking about it, it was a do or die situation.

If he declined, he’d automatically decline working here for any longer. Roger would have to gather his things and get the hell out of here, go back to his flat, deal with John and the fact that now no one was earning money, would have to use the rest of John’s college money to pay for the rent, find a new less paying job, maybe they would have to leave London, John would have to give up his hopes of education and they would maybe have to return home, home where people were already waiting for him to return to, ready to probably kill him on the spot if they found out their money was gone; 

Roger stood up, his chair scratching unpleasantly on the wooden floor, head held high and eyes cold as he stared at Mr. Staffel; there was no going back now and he would be dammed if he ruined this for John; no, there was only one option left and Roger knew, giving up his life into the waiting hands of Tim’s father was the only way he’d be able to keep them safe. 

The way too cheery laugh from the old man and the harsh hand shaking his own were barely even recognized by Roger, the blond too focused on breathing, on staying on his feet, on not thinking about what he had just done.

When the door closed behind him, a loud and almost whimpering breath escaped his lips. His hands were shaking slightly as he rubbed them over his face, his bones feeling way too heavy, his heart still going wild and the logical part of brain screaming at him for fucking up every time something good happened to him.

He ignored all of these little whims and closed his eyes, regaining some composure before heading towards the showroom. He knew he had to forget about all his worries for now, he had to focus on his work. He needed to prove that he was worth protecting and worth the trouble he brought, otherwise there would be nothing to protect for long.

As he passed the door, Roger came to sudden halt. Abby stood in front of him, her smile back in place and eyes sparkling up at him, much colder than before.

“Good news! You first dance starts in 20 minutes, so hurry you don’t want to mess the very first one up, do you?” Her hand pushed him rather forcefully into the direction of the backstage area, his own mind too tangled to even try and fight her off. 

Fuck, he needed to get his thoughts back in order. His first fucking private dance was too important to fuck up! 

Roger was clumsily undressing and getting in the prepared clothing that waited for him. It was very revealing and just for the sake of dressing at all and Roger hadn’t been that happy with it, but the others had convinced him that the most important thing with private dances was not the dance itself, but much rather how much skin the client got to touch.

So, he slipped on the dark red panties, adjusted his dick so nothing would fall out and pulled the black cut-out crop top over his head, fluffed out his hair and let Maggie work her magic with the Make-Up.

He didn’t even register what she was ranting on about, her hands pulling his head and pushing her brushes in his face all while he was slowly coming to the cold and dreadful conclusion that this was it now. This was what his life would be now. There was no going back now.

When the other dancer was finished, she pulled Roger up and walked him to his designated room for the night. She was still going on about god knows what and apparently blissfully unaware of the internal meltdown Roger was currently dealing with, stopping in front of the door and wishing him good luck before winking and turning back around.

When Roger finally had calmed himself down enough to get this over with, he pushed the door open, almost falling back out of the room upon seeing just who exactly was waiting there for him.

It was none other than the curly headed, tall man with the sharp nose and soft eyes, staring back at him, a gentle smile on his lips and hope in his eyes. 

Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought about writing that first private dance into it as well, but I think it would have made the chapter too stuffed?  
> Idk aha let me know what you think or how you liked this chapter!  
> You all know I live for comments ;)
> 
> Again, thank you so much for reading, I'm really so grateful people still care about this!
> 
> Until next time
> 
> xx


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